Reborn in the Mist

The novices and acolytes entertained us first. Well, I say entertained but to them, this was a series of ranked matches that would determine who they’d fight next and how close they were to becoming a candidate for a legendary sword or even an apprentice of present legendary swordsmen.

A lot of the nostalgia I felt from being here came from my childhood, I was not the only Karatachi child to aspire for greatness through Kenjutsu. Though, at the time I was as young as Mangetsu-kun and little more than Uncle’s chess piece, I hadn’t the slightest clue where I’d find greatness and I took whatever path was open to me. Of course, I quickly found myself losing to those who had a firmer idea of what their greatness looked like, despite my acclaim as a prodigy.

Below, upon the stage, two novices clashed against each other. One with all his strength and the other with deft feet springing him away from nearly every slash, kick and blow from his opponent. The crowds cheered and jeered equally for both and I could see seductively dressed women passing about a white box to hands clutching money.

Kirigakure was many things as a shinobi village but its civilians, well, after living under the Third’s regime gambling and other such vices were a favoured taste amongst the populace. Whether this was a result of the past war or the ongoing one, I did not know…yet. I had little grudge against those that would indulge but some modesty would be appreciated.

I spared a glance over my shoulder and found one seductive woman with a white box hovering over Junko Hoshigaki’s shoulders, leaned over to glean her whispers before stepping away to be unnoticed at the far end of the booth.

It would seem whatever my intention for a healthy Kirigakure I’d have to contend with players at the highest tier of my regime, but I knew that by now. Uncle was a deceptive drunk, Lady Megumi just about prostituted her granddaughter to me and Lord Funato…beyond his murder happy ways against anything with a Bloodline, I couldn’t speak ill of him.

He’d greeted me when I arrived at the booth though I utterly ignored it. If he wasn’t coming to apologize and readjust himself to my needs then the silent treatment would continue for all to see, even Princess Hanako.

She impressed me. Her presence filled the booth of clan heads and councillors with the same measure of good behaviour mine did, perhaps even more. Her eyes were almond shaped and a captivating shade of amber that glinted with intelligence as she watched the novices fight, batting long, curled eye lashes each time her favoured novice gains ground.

It was easy to tell the deft-foot young man and his tanto was in her favour because his movements, failures and gains were all that brought a reaction to her otherwise stoic, porcelain smooth features. Her full, crimson slick lips twitched in annoyance as the man’s opponent gritted through his lacerating slashes to mount a solid blow to his chest, propelling him inches close to the edge.

I smirked and gestured for Junichi who fell to my side within a second, I whispered into his ear, “Find out what you can about that one, yes, the one about to be defeated.”

The Princess was seated at my right hand side while Uncle and Lady Megumi were to my left. Only Lord Funato sat at Hanako-hime’s right, I saw him watch Junichi leave with a painfully curious gaze and felt more joy at his exclusion. The longer it went on the more I felt it was the best punishment I could have given the old man— irrelevance.

He leaned and muttered something to the Princess who only shook her head without ever looking away from the match. Her champion had just saved himself from taking a plunge and was straight up wall walking around his opponent, baiting the larger, violent man to come over the edge with him.

The two clashed again but this time Hanako’s favoured boy anticipated his opponents strike and lunged under it, slicing at his exposed armpit and then viciously at the feet. The large man tumbled with a hiss but was as unrelenting as Hanako’s would-be champion— the Princess was on the edge of her seat now, although rather subtly leaning outward to get a closer glimpse of her favoured struggling against the deadweight of his opponent.

However, it was all for naught as the proctor kicked the clinging man down to the plunge before hoisting up Hanako’s champion as he is declared so for this match.

As the boy is taken away to a medic for healing the next match is set and its fighters arranged to face off on the blooded sands. I spied at Hanoko and found her interest waned, without her boy competing in this match I couldn’t blame her but I figured this would be a good time as any to break words.

“You seemed enthralled by that fight, it’s not often you see such, is it?” I said, minding my words as best I could.

Hanako-hime faced me, her midnight black hair cascaded in lustrous loose waves as I got a complete view of her face. She was beautiful in the most obvious definition of the word, and her voice carried all the knowing of it as she spoke, “It is a privileged I suffer, for my brother faces down opponents most willing to deliver death and tragedy. I would wish for us to switch places but then he would suffer knowing that I am in danger. Perhaps if I learned from these fighters I would be able to fend off his enemies someday.”

Ohh kayy…right to business then

. “Your brother need only ask and he shall receive, has he sent you to ask?”

She made an ugly face which merely ended up being cute in a pretty way, “You make jests. I am here because you asked me here, I believed you had better news for me than more lures to spring debts and garner favours from him.”

Ah, she’s the spicy kind of quiet. The kind that bite hard with logic, fact and truths of reality whenever they spoke, small talk had no place with her because it was avoidance, sneaky and beneath her royal hide.

“It’s unfortunate you believe that, well then, if your brother won’t ask then will you? Surely you have the voice to speak reason to him.”

She raised an expensive eyebrow, “Reason? What reason is there to holding off on your-”

“And the winner is…Momochi Zabuza!”

My head whipped away from her and her snappy words so fast I almost got up to stand by the rail. Atop the stage was indeed Momochi Zabuza, he was tall but not as tall as the adult who’s raised his hand to champion to the crowds jeering at his low caste name. He was shirtless and wore baggy pants that would be cut up in various places had he not absolutely lacerated his opponent, a poor older man who hugged the floor as he bled plentifully onto the sands, shrinking at the touch of medics come to hoist him away.

Zabuza...Of course I’d find him here. Then again, I wasn’t really looking for him and neither was Jason but hearing his name roared under the jeers of low caste hate was more than enough to revive the memories of his iconic strength as the wielder of Kurikiribocho.

I smiled and relaxed in my seat, the Princess had her stoic look on but I could tell she felt somewhat insulted by my sudden carelessness and so I apologized, “I’m sorry, you were saying?”

She hmph’d and turned away, “What a reaction. He is of low origins is he not?”

“Zabuza? I suppose so.”

With my eyes trained on the stage we didn’t share many more words and the topic of the Daimyo and his war faded to the background of my growing glee to be reminded of Zabuza. I wondered who else I was forgetting.