Masayoshi (Justice)

1114, month of the Goat. Night.

Ikemoto Yoshihiro had always been a pragmatic duelist, just as Munenori-sama had taught him. “Any action on the battlefield that brings victory is honorable.”…’ said Kami Akodo himself. A Kami! Who was he to disagree with a god? However, he couldn’t ignore the accusing voices whispering in his mind as he had to pretend to be a mere heimin for weeks, hiding in the shadows like a coward and being defeated by mere ashigaru guarding Yamanobe Mura’s makeshift prison. All because of a katana.

“Tsk. I can't be so careless. Mere ashigaru, what a joke! What would my ancestors say if I were killed in such a pathetic situation…“ - thought Yoshihiro, as he tried to stop the bleeding in his abdomen with his hand. The blow hadn’t been deep, but the movement of fleeing towards the wild areas surrounding the village had taken its toll, increasing the bleeding. The guards who prevented his clandestine action demonstrated coordination and determination such as the samurai had never seen in mere heimin.

Or perhaps… “Perhaps it was my determination that failed me… For acting like a dishonorable Scorpion…” The samurai shook his head, trying to banish these thoughts as if they were flies buzzing in his ears. “No!” - Ikemoto thought - “Munenori-sama, forgive me for my weakness! I will complete this mission, in your name and in the name of the Hirata clan!”

Once again, the samurai gritted his teeth and continued trying to tend to the wound he had received. In the middle of the grass, engulfed by the darkness…

*   *   *

Seven years ago.

Screams in the night. Ikemoto Yoshihiro immediately positioned himself in front of Hirata Munenori, ready to give his life to protect his lord should the enemies break the defensive line. The attack on Hirata Castle was going well; Munenori was well-liked in the courts and had managed to gain several allies to assault the castle of his brother and feudal lord, Hirata Isshin.

The internal conflict had begun because of the two brothers' differing philosophies on how the clan should be run. Isshin was an isolationist; he believed the Hirata should remain confined to their valley, stagnant. Munenori saw the path to the clan's glory and wouldn't allow anyone to hinder its rise. For the Hirata's sake, Munenori would drag them to victory, screaming and kicking if necessary.

Yoshihiro didn't like to think about the deaths of his own clan members necessary for the transition of power, but what could be done? “Isshin, you old fool!" - thought Yoshihiro - “You and your vassals should be able to see what Lord Munenori intends, how the clan could reach its true potential under his tutelage!”

If anyone was responsible for these senseless deaths, it was certainly Isshin, in his stubbornness, wasn't it?

Wasn't it...?

*   *   *

1114, month of the Goat. The following morning.

Ikemoto Yoshihiro had managed to return to the group he was infiltrating without leaving a trail. Last night he had tried to free prisoners captured by Yamanobe Mura's samurai, in an attempt to shame them before the delegation that was in the village. More specifically, he wanted to shame Hirata Satsu, to show everyone that Isshin's eldest daughter did not deserve the position she held and certainly did not deserve to wield the clan's ancestral sword, Masayoshi. That prestige was due only to the true lord of the Hirata: Munenori-sama.

Hirata Munenori. His lord, the one who had ordered him to undertake this mission of infiltrating the village where Satsu served as Kaishakunin, the executor of Kusanagi Kazunori, and there demoralize her, challenge her, and defeat her. When he completed his mission, Yoshihiro would bring back to his lord the katana that was rightfully his.

Until then, however, Yoshihiro was to continue fulfilling his role, mingling among Yi Hayashida's servants. An honorable, heroic, and skilled samurai. Every time Yoshihiro looked at him, he felt more guilt for the actions he was performing. "No! Regret is one of the Greatest Sins! It is not fitting for a samurai to repent…" The thought died the moment Ikemoto noticed Hirata Satsu, armed and armored, looking directly at him.

The young samurai stood in the middle of Yamanobe Mura Street, a pale expression of shock and recognition on her face, the katana of the Kusanagi clan at her waist. This meant she was carrying out her duty as Kaishakunin and… “Impossible! There's no way they could have followed me!"— he thought. But the situation was clear. Satsu had come to apprehend Yoshihiro, without a doubt. However, the shock on her face showed that only now had she recognized him. This would be his only opportunity; perhaps the surprise would be enough for Ikemoto to overcome her.

“HIRATA SATSU, YOU WORTHLESS DOG! I AM IKEMOTO YOSHIHIRO, SERVANT OF HIRATA MUNENORI, TRUE LORD OF THE HIRATA CLAN!“— the samurai shouted at the top of his lungs, causing the eyes of everyone on the village street, samurai and peasant alike, to turn to him. At the same time, Yoshihiro pulled his wakizashi from inside his kimono, revealing his status as a samurai. The wakizashi, which was now without its tsuba, to better hide it among his clothes… Like a murderer… Like a dishonorable cur…

*   *   *

Months ago.

“Are you sure you're the right person for this mission, Yoshi-san?"— Ikemoto Yoshihiro's father looked at him with obvious concern. Both of them divided a small table in a campaign pavilion, still wearing their armor.

“Yes, father. Our family needs to demonstrate to Munenori-sama that he can trust us. Only then will we be able to recover our prestige!" - Yoshihiro saw his father's expression turn bitter once more as he mentioned his lord's name.

“Prestige… Look where the pursuit of prestige has led us, Yoshi-san. And this mission? You're going to throw your honor in the mud, and why? Because our lord can't accept that he lost a sword?”

“It's not just any sword, otōsan!“ - The anger in Yoshihiro’s voice surprised his father, while other samurai in the pavilion turned to the two of them, with expressions of frustration, annoyance, and dismay. The samurai immediately regretted his outburst and softened his tone. “It's not just any sword, it's Masayoshi! The ancestral sword of our clan, stolen by Isshin when the coward refused to accept his defeat!”

“You're mistaken, Yoshi-san,“ - the old samurai spoke in a bitter voice as he looked at the now cold tea in his hand - Masayoshi is not the sword of OUR clan… And don't accuse of cowardice a man who fought to the end to save his family's lives. At least Isshin didn't buy glory with the blood of his children in senseless campaigns…”

This time it was Yoshihiro who was surprised by his father's words. The Ikemoto patriarch now had an expression as sour as the samurai around him. His eyes finally shifted from the teacup, only to rest on the daishō of Mitsuhiro, Yoshihiro's older brother. The bloodstain still visible in its sheath.

“Otōsan… I-" Old Nagahiro silenced his son with a wave of his hand.

“Listen, Yoshi-san. You are my last living heir. If you want to throw your life away on this stupid mission, just be aware that you will be taking our clan to the grave with you. Are you sure Munenori deserves this loyalty?” - the samurai himself shook his head, averting his gaze from his son one last time - “Actually, I hope Munenori gets what he wants so badly... Masayoshi.”

Yoshihiro couldn't believe the words coming out of his father's mouth. He had been one of the biggest supporters of the cou… Of the ascension of lord Munenori! And now this? Regret? Such a great sin, coming from such an honorable samurai? Surely it wasn't his father speaking, but rather the pain of losing a son in battle. Soon, his father would see the truth and understand that he was right. All Yoshihiro needed was to succeed in this mission…

*   *   *

1114, month of the Goat. Moments later.

Yoshihiro, the last heir of the Ikemoto clan, had risen to the top of Yamanobe village along with Hirata Satsu and all the samurai who had heeded his challenge. Now, the two faced each other as shugenja purified and blessed the temple courtyard where the gods, spirits, and ancestors would witness his victory.

And not only them. Among Yamanobe Mura's samurai and the entourage Yoshihiro had infiltrated, more than twenty samurai of various ranks and ages watched the duelists prepare and exchange insults. Satsu had ordered Masayoshi to be brought, which was now at her waist. The katana that was the reason for all of this…

The shugenja completed the rituals. A slight nod to each of the duelists signaled that they could assume their stances. Yoshihiro did so, and a slight smile appeared on Hirata Satsu's face.

“Tsk! She thinks she's already won! I'm going to wipe the smile off your face and take this katana from your corpse, you coward!“ - thought the last Ikemoto. But even just in his mind, calling Satsu a coward sounded ridiculous. He knew there was only one coward in that arena. The words Yi Hayashida had hurled at him were still fresh in his mind: “Today you will face your ancestors in Yomi. What do you think they will say about your actions?”

Yoshihiro knew very well what they would say… For that reason, he needed to defeat Hirata Satsu at all costs. If he won, everything would be justified; he could return victorious to his clan's lands, where he would be bathed in glory by his lord.

He tried to eliminate all distractions from his mind. Ikemoto Yoshihiro and Hirata Satsu faced each other, hands on their katanas, ready to draw the moment the other showed any opening in their posture, any imbalance in their focus…

Each second felt like an eternity. The entire environment faded from the minds of the two samurai; only their opponent remained. A slight adjustment of posture, deliberate, careful…

And a flash of blades being drawn. Both samurai felt the bite of the steel, blood spurted onto the arena, both remained standing. Reassessing their stances, the samurai prepared to deliver another blow to their opponents…

But Ikemoto Yoshihiro was slower. When his katana reached the top of the arc to deliver a lethal blow against Satsu, he felt the impact of Masayoshi’s hilt in his chest, with a blade more than a meter long protruding from his back. Justice pierced her heart, cold and merciless.

The last Ikemoto fell to the ground. While his consciousness faded, he still had time to hear Hirata Satsu's words to the crowd:

"May the kami and all those present here be witness! Munenori is a coward, a liar, and a child murderer!"

Darkness engulfed Yoshihiro. Justice had been served.