Osaka · Ch.10

[Hitai de Bodemloze]

My, my, another Friday rolls around. Where does the time go? Feels like only yesterday I posted the last update

Great interaction between the two women. Indeed an outlaw can not survive long without outside help. A secret letter? I wonder what's in it.

Aha thank you! Perhaps her last letter might give some clues as to what's in the next one

[Alwyn]

You are building a vivid impression of your characters - and their tensions, struggles and sorrows. It's sad (at least for me) that Yukimura reacted to the letter with such apparent indifference.

[McScottish]

First off, another excellent post - keep them coming!

Secondly, do you use a program for the screenshot borders, or...?

[Hitai de Bodemloze]

You are building a vivid impression of your characters - and their tensions, struggles and sorrows. It's sad (at least for me) that Yukimura reacted to the letter with such apparent indifference.

Thank you Indeed, Yukimura is turning into quite a moody fellow - certainly more than I had originally envisaged!

First off, another excellent post - keep them coming!

Secondly, do you use a program for the screenshot borders, or...?

Cheers pal I'm certainly no artist; the borders are stolen from another game called Nobunaga's Ambition: Sphere of Influence.

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Apologies for the delay in the next chapter, it appears TWC is having some database errors. The site was offline yesterday, but even now it's not letting me edit posts or do anything fancy, so Chapter Four will have to wait until that's all resolved.

[Turkafinwë]

I agree with both Alwyn and McScottish. These people feel very real, their problems realistic, their mind laid bare. I particularly liked this sentence and the sentiment it awakened within me:

It was like interacting with a ghost; a distant memory of someone he had once known, whose words dissipated into smoke before they could even be processed, like some silent whisper from beyond the grave.

[Hitai de Bodemloze]

Chapter Four
Osaka Castle, Settsu Province
May 14, 1614

Kimura Shigenari was, for the most part, a discerning individual. He was humble and unassuming, and usually dared not speak out of turn. This had led to him developing something of a poor reputation among the other retainers of Toyotomi Hideyori; a dull pretty-boy, all good looks and little substance. He did not mind this, for this allowed him to quietly observe those around him without attracting undue attention. He might as well have been a chiseled statue in their eyes, silent and stoic in the corner of the room. But if you stick a statue in the middle of a castle, it will eventually hear all of its secrets.

“You don’t trust him, do you?”

They stood in one of the labyrinthine corridors of Osaka Castle - deep in the luxurious maze of a palace constructed by Toyotomi Hideyoshi before his untimely death. A few minutes earlier, the senior retainers of Hideyori - Hideyoshi’s son and heir - had filed out of the room, concluding their business for the day. Kimura liked to linger a while to ensure his lord’s safety, but his vigil had been interrupted by a young woman he found both irksome and alluring in equal measure.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you are talking about,” he replied evenly, not meeting her gaze.

Lady Sen stuck out her tongue at him. “Oh quit the act already!” she scolded him playfully. “You don’t have to play the big dumb brute with your little sister.”

Kimura looked down at the pouting girl and finally cracked a smile. He raised a gloved palm to ruffle her hair by way of an apology. “I’m sorry,” he told her, as she smiled up at him gleefully. “Being around those guys always puts me on edge. Information is never traded lightly within these walls, it behoves us to keep our own counsel.”

“With them maybe,” she chided him, pretending to sulk. “But not when you’re with me and Hide-chan. Do I go around putting on airs and being all Mistress of Osaka with you? No, I do not. So don’t be Mr Silent and Brooding with me, got it?”

The samurai laughed; it was indeed tough to act cool and composed around his adopted sister, her playful free-spirited nature made it nearly impossible. “Mistress of Osaka you say?” he mused thoughtfully, teasing her as he was wont to do. “I wonder what Lady Yodo would have to say about that.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Sen cried in mock anguish, raised an overlong sleeve to her mouth. “Anything but that!”

The pair of them chuckled and Kimura felt the tension of the day drain from him somewhat. Lady Sen had that effect on people, and in these trying times he was all the more thankful for it. However, in this instance there were grave concerns yet afoot. “No,” he finally replied to her original question with a sigh, after their laughter had died down. “I don’t trust him.”

Her angelic visage clouded for a brief moment and she took his arm to guide him away from the meeting room. He had just sat for three hours meeting with the lords and ladies of Osaka: Lady Yodo, Ono Harunaga, Watanabe Tadasu and Katagiri Katsumoto, amongst several other civilian and military advisors. They gathered every week to counsel the young lord Hideyori, advising him on how best to survive in this new world they had found themselves in.

Toyotomi Hideyori was the son of Hideyoshi; the great general who had fulfilled Oda Nobunaga’s legacy to unify the country. His untimely death however had left a power vacuum his infant son had been unable to fill. Instead, the treacherous general Tokugawa Ieyasu had seized the opportunity to install himself as Shogun, besting Ishida Mitsunari and the last of the Toyotomi loyalists fourteen years ago at Sekigahara. Now the boy daimyo was confined to his late father’s castle at Osaka, a virtual prisoner stripped of his lands and vassals, with only a handful of loyal retainers left to help guide him.

And it was one of those retainers of whom they now spoke. Katagiri Katsumoto. The elderly statesman had always evoked suspicion about the castle, for it was upon Tokugawa Ieyasu’s orders that the boy Hideyori be placed in his charge after Sekigahara. Whilst the rumours of his being a Shogunate spy had never quite abated, he had won the grudging respect of many after his repeated attempts to protect the boy in the years since that fateful day fourteen years ago. He had been as stalwart and passionate a defender as any for the Toyotomi cause, and had personally argued with Ieyasu over the boy’s welfare on numerous occasions.

This most recent meeting had left a sour taste in Kimura’s mouth however. The Shogun had decreed that Hideyori must be relieved of his vast wealth - a mountain of gold bullion inherited from his father. As such, these past years the boy’s council of advisors had aided in strategically distributing the family funds to comply with the Shogun’s demands. Their most recent venture had been the commission of a giant bronze bell for the Imperial temple in Kyoto, a worthy and magnanimous act that would greatly improve the clan’s image.

“On one side of it,” Katagiri had told them breathily, “is inscribed the phrase: ‘May the state be peaceful and prosperous’. On the other: ‘May the lords and servants be rich and cheerful.’”

Murmurs of approval had passed around the room, as the Toyotomi retainers expressed their approval. “What fine sentiments!” one had said. “How truly noble!” came the cry of another. “This will surely satisfy the Shogun!” someone else had affirmed.

Only three people were silent: Hideyori’s mother, the haughty Lady Yodo; Kimura himself; and the hawkish Ono Harunaga, steward of the castle. The latter’s silence did not last long however. “Tell me,” Harunaga had drawled, addressing Katagiri once the chorus of cheers had died down, “who chose the words for these inscriptions?”

Katagiri had looked shocked at the question, almost affronted. “Why,” he had blustered, thrown off by the directness of the question, “I attended to the matter personally, I’ll have you know! As if I would leave such important decisions concerning the young master to anyone else.”

“I see,” Harunaga had replied, respectfully bowing his head. Nothing more had been said, and the conversation soon turned to other affairs. But Harunaga had remained silent, wearing a thoughtful expression that remained upon his countenance until they had concluded the meeting and quit the room.

“Well,” Lady Sen spoke, breaking him out of his reverie and bringing him back to reality, “if something is troubling you, you can tell me Ki-chan.”

Kimura’s thoughts wandered back to the exchange between Harunaga and Katagiri; the former’s strange question and the latter’s indignant answer. Something was not right; something he didn’t quite understand yet, but something he had a feeling he should be concerned about. Katagiri Katsumoto, the ward of his liege, assigned to his role by their eternal foe. Yet despite the origins of his employment, he had always done right by Hideyori. Why then could he not shake the bad feeling he had been carrying since the meeting’s end?

He shook his head, declining to answer and putting the problem to one side for the time being, as the corridor opened out into the southern courtyard of the inner castle. It was already nighttime now, and moonlight streamed down into the garden. They stopped in their tracks to take in the view, suddenly both lost for words. The white waters of the garden ponds sparkled under the lunar glow, whilst the shadows drew long and beautiful against the fine stonework of the enclosing walls. Sen finally let go of his arm and skipped on ahead of him. She perched herself on an ornately carved bench beneath a flowering wisteria tree, her dainty feet swinging just above the ground. “Well whatever it is, I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you,” she told him pointedly, offering up a solemn smile. “Just because Ieyasu sent him here doesn’t necessarily mean that he’s a bad person.”

She was right, of course. Just because Tokugawa Ieyasu had sent him there didn’t mean that Katagiri was a bad person. And she would know of course, since Lady Sen, wife of Toyotomi Hideyori, was the Shogun’s granddaughter.

[Hitai de Bodemloze]

I agree with both Alwyn and McScottish. These people feel very real, their problems realistic, their mind laid bare. I particularly liked this sentence and the sentiment it awakened within me:

Thank you Indeed, it's a theme I often play upon - probably because it hits close to home for me as well. There's a wonderful scene in the sitcom How I Met Your Mother that I always draw a lot of inspiration from, where the main character is talking about his long distance girlfriend, who he hasn't seen in months. He says: "I can remember how she makes me feel, but I can't actually remember her". And it's such a poignant line, and so true of what happens when we lose touch with people.

---

Anyways, new chapter is up, at last (props to GED and the tech staff for getting everything sorted). I'm not happy with the night shots still - I've leaned more towards quite a desaturated aesthetic for this AAR, with minimal colours, but Shogun 2 makes it rather difficult with nighttime shots, as the blue is so rich in them. Seems very unnatural to me, but desaturating it even a little just makes it entirely grey, which likewise doesn't feel too realistic. I don't have this trouble with daytime shots, I guess because the colour spectrum is much wider.* So consider this image a placeholder too, until I can figure out a consistent way of doing my nighttime screenshots.

*Although winter/snow screenshots are equally a headache - day or night -, again because the game hues them overly blue.

[Alwyn]

Ah, the relationship between the boy and the elder statesman is an interesting one. It seems that the Shogun remains anxious that Hideyori might try to avenge the betrayal of his father, and I'd ordinarily expect Hideyori to resent the Shogun's statesman, but it seems that Katagiri genuinely cares for Hideyori.

[Turkafinwë]

Great introduction of two new characters in Kimura and Lady Sen as well as fleshing out the political world these characters live in. The final sentence is a strong finisher. All in all a very enjoyable chapter.

[Hitai de Bodemloze]

Chapter Five
Mount Koya, Kii Province
May 16, 1614

♪ The sun rises in the East, and sets in the West,

As the winds howl and the rain begins to pour.

And I will be with you my child,

Until the sun rises in the East, and sets no more ♪

Oume hummed the ditty to herself, as she made her way down to the lake. On her arm was a basket of fruits she had been out picking the previous day. They had been washed and cleaned, and she was en route now to the dojo to deliver them to her father, as she always did.

It was not necessarily strange for them to maintain a dojo, considering her father’s martial history, although it had taken some years after their exile for the concession to be made. Whilst their humble home was nestled high in the mountains, the small dojo - wherein could be housed her father’s old weapons and armour - was some ways down the cliffs, on the edge of a small lake. It was a very tranquil place, she thought, and somewhere her father often liked to retreat in the summer months. She would find him there, sitting by the water, staring out into the distance. She liked to give him his space in such times, cooped up together as they were everyday, but considering the gracious bounty the kami of the mountain had blessed them with, she could not help but wish to share them with him.

Oume supposed it had been Auntie Ina’s doing that they had been gifted the dojo; a proud warrior herself, she would no doubt have thought a place to practice and train - to hone one’s martial skills and to keep one’s wits sharp - would have helped Yukimura through these trying times of exile. Sadly, she had been mistaken, for it had been many years since her father had last donned his armour and taken up his spear. The dojo was almost entirely ceremonial in nature these days, acting merely as another place for her father to meditate - or pass out, when he had drunk too much.

Still, Oume appreciated the gesture, as she appreciated all that Ina did for them; were it not for her and the provisions she sent every year, they would have long ago died cold, lonely deaths atop Mount Koya. And whilst Oume was no warrior, she would often go to marvel at the artifacts inside the dojo. Young as she was, she had never really known her father before their exile, back when he had been famous throughout the country as a valiant hero and stalwart general. There was precious little of that person left these days, but the dojo afforded her a chance to glimpse her father’s past, to learn about the man he had once been. She would often go there, running her lithe fingers across his crimson red armour, marvelling at the famous stag-antlered helm he had worn into battle, and imagining how he had gripped his trident spear in the countless duels he had fought.

But there was so much more there too. After her father had passed out asleep, she would often take a candle down to the dojo, rummaging through the crates and chests that he had taken with them upon their exile. She had found battle trophies, campaign maps, letters exchanged between him and his old friends, Shima Sakon, Otani Yoshitsugu, Ishida Mitsunari… It was a virtual treasure trove, a living history of a man, and being there - learning about his past, about the man he had been - brought her closer to him. Closer to him than she could ever otherwise get now.

She was still absently humming the ditty when she bumped into her father; rounding a corner on the path, he suddenly appeared walking up the mountain. There was a flash of pain in his eyes when his gaze fell upon her, and she immediately ceased her rendition of the tune, bowing her head in shame.

“I thought I told you not to sing that anymore,” he told her gruffly. She looked up and saw her father again as he usually was; a vacant, emotionless expression in his eyes, as if he were looking through her, instead of at her - as if she were not even there at all.

“I’m sorry father,” she bowed her head again, cursing herself for forgetting. He had used to sing the tune to her as a child, but after his wife - Oume’s mother - had passed, Yukimura had forbidden it to be sung again in his presence. Oume knew better than to disobey her father, but she couldn’t help herself from humming the ditty to herself sometimes; like her father’s collection of arms and armour in their dojo, it was one of the few links she had left to the man he had used to be - of the life they had been robbed of by the Tokugawa.

Oume cleared her throat, as the silence began to become awkward between them. She held out the basket in front of her, reaching into it and offering him a pear. “Look father, I brought some fruits for you to enjoy. It’s such a warm day today, I thought it might help you cool down.”

Yukimura stared at her blankly for several uncomfortable seconds. He then took the proffered fruit and strode past her back up the mountain. “Thank you,” he told her, without even looking back.

Oume watched him go, a sad expression on her face. After waiting a few hours, she retraced his footsteps back to their home. Halfway up the mountain, she would find the fruit neatly tucked away under a pile of leaves.

As she always did.

[Hitai de Bodemloze]

Ah, the relationship between the boy and the elder statesman is an interesting one. It seems that the Shogun remains anxious that Hideyori might try to avenge the betrayal of his father, and I'd ordinarily expect Hideyori to resent the Shogun's statesman, but it seems that Katagiri genuinely cares for Hideyori.

Indeed! I think he's quite a nice fellow too, but, as we're all probably going to learn, Osaka Castle can be a pretty fickle place...

Great introduction of two new characters in Kimura and Lady Sen as well as fleshing out the political world these characters live in. The final sentence is a strong finisher. All in all a very enjoyable chapter.

Thank you! I definitely have a thing for bubbly young women in my AARs, and Lady Sen ended up writing her way into the story quite naturally. I hope she will provide some nice comic/lighthearted relief for the first act (which has been quite depressing so far, which I hadn't really planned for), but I like to think she will end up to be a little more complex, someways down the road.

Also glad that Chapter Four wasn't too jarring a shift. I've deliberately tried to keep the cast relatively small (and anyone with an eye for Japanese history will have probably noticed some conspicuous omissions already!), so there really should only be about twenty main characters knocking about. But there's still a lot of rather disparate people who need introducing in this act, so bear with me. What I'm trying to do is have every second chapter be a Yukimura-focused one, to keep his story pretty central, and then weave the other secondary arcs in between. Do let me know how that works out. Thankfully there's only a couple of major characters left to introduce, and things will hopefully settle into a pretty stable rhythm after Chapter Ten (knock on wood!).

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We also hit 1000 views on the thread! Which isn't that much in the grand scheme of things, but it's a nice first milestone to celebrate Thank you all - members and guests alike - for tuning in so far! We'll catch up with that pesky Takeda in no time!

[Turkafinwë]

Every milestone has to start somewhere. Congrats.

[Alwyn]

I smiled as I read about Oume discovering her father's treasures and feeling closer to him. That moment contrasts well with his reaction to her song. There's definitely a sad tone, including Oume's discovery of what her father has done with her gift.

[Hitai de Bodemloze]

Every milestone has to start somewhere. Congrats.

Indeed it does! Might take a while to get there, but I fear I'm in this for the long haul now

I smiled as I read about Oume discovering her father's treasures and feeling closer to him. That moment contrasts well with his reaction to her song. There's definitely a sad tone, including Oume's discovery of what her father has done with her gift.

That's nice to know! Glad I could bring a smile to your face. And yeah, it's all still a bit moody in the Sanada household, but hopefully that will change soon enough!

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I didn't update last Friday as we were having some more server issues and the site was down. I was going to post yesterday, but something came up and I ended up being a little busier than I'd anticipated. I'll endeavor to get Chapter Six up later this weekend! Hopefully the site will stabilize and we can get back into a regular rhythm next week.

[Hitai de Bodemloze]

Chapter Six
Matsushiro Castle, Shinano Province
May 16, 1614

Ina ran a damp cloth over Nobuyuki’s scalp, wiping away the sweat and wringing the dirty water out into a bucket by the bedside. He was feverish again, twisting and turning beneath the sheets. The castle maids had woken her immediately - as she had commanded them do whenever her husband’s health took a turn for the worse - and she had rushed to his side, despite the late hour.

He had been sick for several years now, and not even the best physicians in Edo had managed to ascertain precisely what was wrong with him. He had collapsed one spring morning, whilst strolling the castle grounds, and his condition had deteriorated rapidly since. For several months he had managed to attend to the affairs of their domain, carrying out his duties as daimyo. But by the winter of 1612, he was unable to walk unassisted, and by the following summer was confined to his bed.

Ina had taken over command of the Sanada clan in his stead, although she faced fierce resistance from several of the clan’s senior retainers, who wished to see one of her young sons installed in her husband’s stead. Yet they did this not out of loyalty to the clan, nor any desire to see the realm prosper, but to capitalize on the power vacuum - to manipulate a young liege and fatten their own pockets. They sickened her, and she battled day in and day out to retain control of the clan. Whilst maligned as an outsider, as well as one with strong ties to the Shogun - her father having been one of Ieyasu’s premier generals -, she commanded the grudging respect of the Sanada retainers, due in no small part to her continued devotion to their lord.

Still, she couldn’t have come this far without Sakubei. Hotta Sakubei was the one clan retainer who had stood by her throughout their ordeals. A veteran warrior and statesman who had served Nobuyuki and Yukimura’s father valiantly during the Sengoku jidai, Sakubei was the most senior of the clan’s retainers now in this age of peace; his word was revered amidst the halls of Matsushiro Castle, and his counsel most valued. And, after Nobuyuki had taken ill, Sakubei had supported her and pledged her his sword when she had declared herself acting head of the clan. The other generals and advisers had not dared go against him, and thus her position was secure - for the time being at least.

She was grateful to him, there was no doubt about that, although she remained suspicious of his motives. Sakubei had not been with Nobuyuki and the rest of the clan at Sekigahara, only returning to the fold after the Shogunate had been declared in its aftermath. After the Sanada clan had schismed, with Yukimura and Nobuyuki taking different sides in the final struggle for the fate of Japan, Sakubei had sided with the younger of the two brothers. Repentant, he had journeyed to Edo to seek the Shogun’s forgiveness - as had so many samurai in those turbulent years -, and, perhaps due to his relatively low standing in the grand scheme of things, had received it; allowing him to return to serve the rightful head of the clan once more. It was difficult to trust him sometimes, but it was his tale of redemption that gave her hope Yukimura might too be able to return to them one day.

“Yukimura…”

It took a few moments before she realised that it had not been her who had whispered the name. She glanced down to see Nobuyuki stirring. His face was ghostly pale, lips blue and eyes watering. He gazed up at her blurrily, obviously struggling to see her in focus. “Yukimura…” he uttered again, his brother’s name falling from his lips like a leaf splitting in the wind.

“He’s not here,” she told him, repeating the heartbreaking words once again - as she did every time her husband asked after his younger brother. “But he’s coming. I promise you, he’s coming.”

The lie had once stung her lips to speak, but now it rolled easily off of her tongue - easier still after she saw that brief glimpse of happiness light his face at her words. He tried to rise, but collapsed before his head was an inch off of the pillow. He raised an arm, fumbling at the empty air above him.

“Yukimura, you…”

“Hush,” she told him, moving closer to his bedside to cradle him in her arms. “Don’t worry. Save your strength. You will beat this, and Yukimura will return for you. Just rest.”

Nobuyuki turned to look at her, eyes narrowing as they locked with hers - as if he was just now seeing her clearly for the first time. “My coins…”

The blood in Ina’s veins froze at the words spilling from her husband’s cracked lips. His gaze was fierce, determined - a resurgent echo of the great warrior’s soul he had once borne all those years ago, now rising to the surface once more. His hand swiftly came to grasp at the hem of her robe, and he pulled her face to within an inch of his own - strength suddenly coursing unbidden through the broken man.

“Ina, my coins…”

But before she could reply, Nobuyuki had collapsed. His grip slackened and his eyes rolled back, as whatever strength had just possessed him vanished as quickly as it had taken hold. Shaking, she tucked him back beneath the covers, and returned to wiping the sweat from the unconscious daimyo’s brow.

But from the corner of her eye, she could not help but glance at the string of six coins lying atop the bedside table - glinting devilishly in the amber candlelight.

[Hitai de Bodemloze]

Sorry we're a week late! I had really wanted to get this up last weekend, but life's been a little busier than I had anticipated as of late. Still, I had a lot of fun writing this chapter (even though it's a bit rushed), so that should be motivation for me to keep at it! Ina is turning out to be a character I really enjoy writing - she's definitely a departure from the female characters archetypes I usually gravitate towards, and it's been nice to explore (and, err, totally not make up on the fly...) some of the drama in Shinano.

[Turkafinwë]

Writing is never a perfect process. It's filled with inaccuracies because of the way life works. That part makes it exciting for the writer I find. It's a thing in motion. The time we spend on it but also the time when it's lying still all leave their mark on the story. I'm starting to like Ina as well. Perhaps because she not the typical archetype you usually go for. I am intrigued about these devilish coins.

[Hitai de Bodemloze]

Chapter Seven
Mount Koya, Kii Province
May 21, 1614

“Nisuke!”

Yukimura looked up, caught off guard momentarily by his daughter’s sudden outburst. Oume was smiling gleefully as she rose from the flowerbeds she had been attending to, making a beeline towards the gated entranceway of the garden. His faithful servant, clad in black and wearing her usual vacant expression, stood beneath the wooden beam - appearing as if out of nowhere, as was her style.

The kunoichi squirmed uncomfortably as Oume embraced her, awkwardly patting the girl’s head as she received her customary welcome home. Yukimura nearly cracked a smile. It took a lot to unsettle the ninja, but Oume had always had a knack for it, despite her good intentions. “It’s so good to have you back, we’ve missed you,” Oume told her happily, speaking for the pair of them. Although Yukimura hadn’t exactly missed her, he was not yet so churlish as to offer any rebuke.

“Yes, quite,” Nisuke replied with a cough, moving to delicately untangle the young girl from her. “The provisions are in the cart back by the bridge. Could you get the servants to unload them?”

Oume’s eyes lit up as she glanced over Nisuke’s shoulder to see the waiting cart. “What has Ina sent us this time? Are there any sweets from the capital? Or any of that spiced wine for father?”

“Go and fetch the servants,” Yukimura told her, making his way down from the porch. Oume turned and offered him a sheepish smile, before bowing her head and heading back inside, an obvious bounce in her step.

“She gets more excitable by the day,” Nisuke remarked, after the girl was out of earshot. She wore a curious expression, something halfway between jealousy and pity. To be young and naive again, the thought would make anyone wistful, he supposed, as what little light in Nisuke’s eyes died again as she turned back to him.

Yukimura shrugged, letting the moment pass. “How is my sister?” he inquired, as they began to walk through the garden.

“She’s not your sister,” Nisuke told him briskly, like a mother reprimanding her child. She fell into step beside him, vacant eyes scanning their surroundings. Trained to recognize any threat towards her master, it was second nature for her now; any subtle change, any little thing out of place, she would notice, even if she wasn’t really even looking.

Yukimura shrugged again. “Regardless, is she well?”

Nisuke reached a hand into the folds of her robe and pulled out a letter, handing it to him ungraciously. “I expect she will tell you herself.”

He took the scroll from her, glancing at it briefly, before turning back to his companion. “I see,” he replied diplomatically. Truth be told, he didn’t especially care either way, but had just thought it polite to ask. He seemed to be doing so a lot recently; maintaining a veneer of courtesy, if only to disguise how empty he truly felt inside. Perhaps if he had been a commoner or a faithless sellsword it might have been different, but the sons of daimyos were raised with a sense of decorum difficult to misplace - no matter how much one might have wished otherwise.

“I trust nothing has happened here in my absence?” she asked, no doubt already knowing the answer - were there even a hair out of place on his head, she would have spotted it in an instant.

Yukimura shook his head. No, nothing had happened, nothing whatsoever. He had woken, drank, and daydreamed through the past month - the days blurring together, overlapping into one long, unchanging existence, where the snows fell in the summer and the winter heat could cook you to the bone; where constellations flitted across the sky, arranging and rearranging themselves into patterns both ancient and new, and where the phase of the moon above them was forever in flux. The same words spilled from his mouth now, just as they had the last time she had returned, and just as they would the next, as they repeated the same eternity they now found themselves cursed to share.

“And what of your journey? Were the roads safe?” he asked, slipping back into the memory of the last time they had had this conversation. Yes, the roads were quite safe, she would say. Did you take the highway through Kyoto?, he would ask. Yes, I did, she would reply. How was the capital?, he would ask, caring little about the question and less about her answer. Fine, she would reply, equally complicit in this shared charade of theirs. He wondered idly if the same exchange always played out between her and Ina at the other end of the journey. Knowing his sister’s fiery nature, he very much doubted it.

“And how was the capital?” he found himself asking, as they ran through the conversation, as mechanical and formulaic as usual. He was not even really paying attention when a different answer came back. He suddenly found himself walking alone in the garden, the kunoichi’s shadow no longer entwined with his own. He turned back, perplexed, to see Nisuke standing several feet back, looking at him with a grimace. His mouth hung agape for a moment, as his brain tried to process this departure from their usual, ritualised exchange.

“I said, there is trouble brewing in Kyoto, my lord,” she told him gravely, her eyes once vacant now as sharp and deadly as the sword at her belt.

“Trouble?” his mouth struggled with the suddenly unfamiliar word, repeating it to himself as if it might somehow help him get to grips with what was going on. “Trouble, in Kyoto?”

Nisuke nodded, moving forward and gripping his hands with a fierceness he hadn't seen her exhibit now for fourteen years. “A new bell chimes in the capital, my lord, and it is a sound that cannot be ignored.”

[Hitai de Bodemloze]

Writing is never a perfect process. It's filled with inaccuracies because of the way life works. That part makes it exciting for the writer I find. It's a thing in motion. The time we spend on it but also the time when it's lying still all leave their mark on the story. I'm starting to like Ina as well. Perhaps because she not the typical archetype you usually go for. I am intrigued about these devilish coins.

Indeed, especially so with the serialized nature of AARs. I like to try and strike a balance between planning and writing in advance, and leaving space for the story and characters to grow and evolve in their own ways, but it's often a very difficult and delicate task. But we live and learn, and there are some new tricks and strategies I've been trialing this time around, to try and keep things a little tighter than in some of my other stories. I need to find the time to get a big chunk of writing done soon though; the last two chapters have been written now in a bit of a rush, and it's nice to have a bit more of a buffer.

[Hitai de Bodemloze]

Chapter Eight
Osaka Castle, Settsu Province
May 21, 1614

It had been a strange week. Osaka Castle had always had a rather austere air to it, since Hideyoshi’s death sixteen years ago - at least, that’s what Kimura had been told. He had a vague recollection of happier times, in those brief years when Lord Hideyori had not been Lord Hideyori at all, but Hide-chan, his boyhood friend and foster brother, weaned on the same wet nurse’s bosom. But it had changed with Hideyoshi’s death, and again after Sekigahara. Now the castle was a gloomy place, haunted by the spectre of what might have been - of a different Shogun and a different Japan; the solemn shadow of a legacy unfulfilled enveloping every dark corridor and lonely courtyard.

But Kimura had never known it quite like this. It was tense, stifling - as if everyone’s mouth had been stuffed with a secret they could not voice; choking on a mystery they couldn’t understand. Servants and chamberlains scurried nervously out of sight, speaking only in whispers. Samurai and soldiers gripped their spears in white knuckles, whilst even the horses and livestock could not sleep peacefully through the night. Lady Yodo herself had taken to her chambers, and had not seen anyone since their last council meeting. And, as they all knew, when her mood soured, so did that of the entire castle.

It was more than that though. The Mistress of Osaka was famous for her foul moods and fouler temper, but even she could not have cast such a pall over the place. No, something had happened, and news of it had seeped into the castle like a slow-acting venom. A storm was on the horizon, but no one quite seemed to know when it would strike, or what damage it might do.

He stood on one of many balconies lining the multilayered tenshu, underneath a cloudy grey sky. The moon had retreated to some far off heaven, leaving only a musty darkness, mimicking the mood in the castle quite uncannily. He was alone, and had been for a while. There had been no council meetings to attend, nor had Lord Hideyori had need of him. Lady Sen - the only person seemingly not affected by the downbeat mood that had seized the rest of them - had begun to busy herself organizing the summer Tenjin festival, and he had not seen her either. The other Toyotomi retainers, Watanabe Tadasu, Ban Naotsugu, Susukida Kanesuke and the rest, had largely been keeping to themselves.

But just as he was beginning to bemoan his solitude, a thin, reedy and all-too-familiar voice suddenly interrupted his lament. “Ah, Kimura. Do you mind if I join you?”

Kimura turned to see Ono Harunaga, steward of the castle, approaching. The older man closed the sliding door behind him, and joined the young samurai at the balcony’s edge without waiting for a response. Kimura would not have dared refuse the request, and Ono Harunaga was a man who knew such things all too well. Powerful, and keenly aware of it, he cut an imposing figure, and - second only to Lady Yodo - was probably one of the most dangerous individuals in service to the Toyotomi.

“It is a rather grim night,” Harunaga remarked, gazing up at the dark clouds as a light rain began to drizzle down, plinking off the stonework about them. “I fear there is a storm coming.”

Kimura nodded in agreement, his muscles tightening slightly, as his face contorted into the usual stoic expression so well worn now on his chiseled countenance. “Indeed, you are most perceptive.”

“I wonder,” Harunaga mused, flashing an inquisitive glance at Kimura, “what will you do when it breaks? Will you run for cover, or will you stand tall against the rain?”

“I will do as my lord bids,” Kimura responded demurely, as he slipped into a well worn pattern - cautiously guarding against questions, and only offering up the correct response in exchange. “I am but a soldier, pledged to the Toyotomi Clan. If my lord bids me cower, I shall cower. If he bids me to saddle my horse and charge against the heavens, I will shatter the very clouds themselves with my spear.”

It was a perfect response, and one which would have earned him a reprieve from any further intrusive questions. That is, if anyone other than Ono Harunaga had been the one asking. Harunaga eyed him hawkishly, before sighing. “We’re not in the council chambers, Kimura, please stop that.”

The young samurai’s eyes narrowed, but Harunaga continued, unabated. “I’ve been steward of this castle now for over twenty years. I’ve watched you grow up, I’ve watched you with Lord Hideyori and Lady Sen, and I know the true man that hides behind this facade. I have no need of a statue, but a man of action. I need you, Kimura Shigenari, and this is why I have sought you out tonight - alone, and away from prying ears.”

Kimura carefully considered his reply. He had known Ono Harunaga a long time, this was true, ever since he had been a boy. Kimura had served honourably as a Toyotomi retainer, and had done much to advance the interests of Osaka Castle. But never once had its steward sought him out, nor spoken to him quite so directly. “You need me?”, Kimura replied, settling on a noncommittal response, but tilted by sudden turn the conversation had taken.

It was not that Kimura did not trust the elder statesman - he certainly had more trustworthy credentials than Katagiri Katsumoto, that much was for sure. But if Ono Harunaga needed you for something, you could bet it wasn’t for anything good; he was not a man to ask favours lightly, nor one to place his own trust in others when he could avoid it.

Harunaga sighed again. “You’ve noticed something wrong about the castle, am I right? And you noticed it the moment that Katagiri told us about the bell he had commissioned on behalf of the young lord.”

This much was true, Kimura conceded; Harunaga was nothing but astute. “What does this have to do with the bell we patronised?” he asked diplomatically, fishing for more information.

Harunaga ignored the question. “Tell me, Kimura, what do you think has caused such a pall to settle over the castle?”

Kimura half-shrugged a shoulder. “I do not know,” he answered, not entirely truthfully. He had his suspicions, but was not particularly inclined to reveal them to the other man - especially not when he was being just as secretive with his own motives.

“Take a guess.”

The samurai frowned, a little puzzled by this line of questioning. “Lady Yodo,” he ventured. “She did not react well to the news Katagiri brought us, and has been in a bad mood ever since.”

The steward shook his head. “Try again.”

Kimura glanced up at the sky, as the rain now began to descend more heavily. “The weather? It’s been unseasonably cold as of late,” he replied, still declining to offer his true thoughts on the matter.

Harunaga rubbed his temples wearily, half turning to leave. “By the kami boy, I had thought you smarter than this,” he remarked sadly. “Perhaps you are not the person we need after all.”

Kimura’s curiosity now began to boil over, and he made the calculated decision to trade away his suspicions, if only to learn just what exactly the other man wanted of him. “They say,” Kimura began slowly, deliberately catching Harunaga as he began to move away, “in former times, the ire of the Shogun could be felt across the land. When the lord of the realm had been wronged, there were none who could not sense it. I fear someone has done him a great insult, but, I confess, I know not what.”

Thin lips stretched into a crooked smile and Harunaga slapped him on the shoulder. “Yes,” he replied, but the smile now faded as a grim expression stole his features away. “Tokugawa Ieyasu is displeased, and he is making his feelings known. His anger is slowly spreading across the country, and it seeps into these walls like rot into timber.”

“Because of the bell?” Kimura asked, incredulity now dawning on his erstwhile stoney features. “What was wrong with what we said? We wished for peace and prosperity, for riches and cheer among all folk high and low. How could the Shogun take offense at that?”

Harunaga moved to stand before him, tracing a long finger across the headtop of the wooden handrail lining the balcony’s edge. On his fingertip, he collected the errant drops of rain now beginning to pool on the edge and began to write out the twin inscriptions: ‘May the state be peaceful and prosperous’ - kokka ankō -, and ‘May noble lord and servants both be rich and cheerful’ - kunshin hōraku.

“I don’t see the problem,” Kimura frowned, moving forward to inspect the writing more closely.

Turning to the first phrase, with the hem of his sleeve Harunaga brushed away the characters for ko and an, leaving behind only the second and fourth graphs. Kimura gasped, as he finally understood what had happened - why he had felt so unsettled at the council meeting, and why now the Shogun was so displeased. It was only looking now at the characters that he finally saw it. “It’s not peace and prosperity at all,” he whispered in shock. “If you read them as a name, it says ‘Ieyasu’. But we shattered it, and put other characters in between them.”

“Now do you see?” Harunaga said gravely, turning to the other inscription he had drawn out. He brushed away the first and final characters, leaving only shin hō. But it wasn’t shin hō at all. If you read the words as a name…

“Toyotomi…” Kimura uttered, unable to believe what he was seeing. He reached out to steady himself on the handrail, the enormity of what had happened now finally dawning on him. They had just shattered the Shogun’s name, and declared the Toyotomi its place. All carved onto a bell in the holiest and most sacred temple in all of Japan. “What have we done?” he proclaimed, eyes wide, as his last pretense of stoicism finally fell away.

Harunaga moved toward him, gripping Kimura by the shoulders. “No,” he rebuked him with a shake of the head. “This is Katagiri Katsumoto’s doing. He has unleashed a storm upon the land, a storm that threatens now to wipe this castle from the very surface of the earth.

"Now, I ask you again, Kimura Shigenari: will you run for cover, or will you stand tall against the rain?”