"Dad? He passed away just days ago."
That was the answer a young Ken gave when asked about his family.
"What? And you've said nothing all this time?"
That was the voice of a red-haired, fiery little girl whom Kotaro brought with him to play.
"Kotoko…. There is no need to get mad at him. I am sure he had his reasons for keeping silent."
As Ken was looking at the two, he felt a gentle touch on his head. When he turned to look at who was comforting him, he saw a pair of big, yellow and black eyes that came together with a calm, kind smile belonging to another girl he'd met recently.
"There, there. You really are strong, Ken. But there's no need to hold it all in."
"See? Look how kind Ten is with him! I think we just need to give Ken some time. He'll talk with us when he feels like it. Right, buddy?" Kotaro intervened.
The little tengu offered her hand, waiting for the boy to grab it. She had already gone as far as to take of her mask.
Ken just stood there and looked at her confused. This was the first time a hand had been offered to him.
"You know, even on the hottest days, the hand of a lady is still ice-cold. It is the duty of a man to warm her," a smug Kotaro added from his side.
The boy just nodded and grabbed the girl's hand. As he did so, his cheeks slowly turned red.
At the unprecedented amount of attention he was receiving, the boy smiled approvingly.
In truth, Ken had a hard time understanding compassion. For as long as he could remember, his father had been the one who'd caused pain in his life. It was hard for Ken to find any love for such a man. Because of him, the boy spent every day training in the art of the sword with the single goal of joining the army and reclaiming the lost name of his father-turned-ronin.
On the night of the man's death, Ken just stood there, next to the bed of his sick father, listening to him rambling on about what path the boy should follow. Even on his deathbed, the ronin never gave a second thought to the way he raised his son. Even as he was taking his last breaths, he made sure to spend them on dictating this boy's future.
That's why Ken felt no pain for the passing of his father. However, there was one moment he just could not get over.
On his last breath, the father, who had always looked at his son as a tool, left him with those parting words:
"In the end, I chose to never be a father to you. I won't seek your forgiveness, but just know I hope you will grow up strong, marry the woman you love, and live a life better than I was able to. I'm sorry, Ken."
It didn't hurt. He knew those words were just used by him as a desperate grasp for repentance. Ken would not be shaken by last-moment regrets.
"So then why…why?" Ken asked himself while trying to wipe off the warm, salty tears running down his cheeks.
As the friends stood gathered, in the distance, another young boy ran towards the group, happily waving his hand at them.
As Ken noticed Izumo approaching, he whispered a question that had never left his mind since.
"If we both share the same background, how come you have it so much better?"
*****
It did not take long for the three fighters to reach the enemy stronghold. Neither did it take long for them to cause a ruckus.
Even if terms such as "infiltration" and "assassination" tend to bring the concept of "stealth" with them, the three boys decided it would be more convenient to just brute force their way towards the castle.
"Hurry and go! Don't make me regret conceding to you!" Ken said as he cut through another panicked soldier.
"You've heard him, Izumo! We've dragged out most of the enemy soldiers! Leave it to us and go take the head of that loser!"
Izumo looked back at the two friends who fought back-to-back, just like a father would look at his two sons succeeding together. Even in such a brutal situation, he could not help but smile at them.
It was unusual for people wielding such different weapons to cover each other's backs so well. The yari in Kotaro's hands should have been too long for Ken to be able to stay so close to him, but they had found a way for Kotaro to swing right when Ken was out of the way. Looking at it from a distance, it felt like a dance, where the tail end of the yari was always barely missing Ken's body, just enough for him to swing his katana freely.
On the other side, Ken seemed to have once again taken a step up the ladder of sword proficiency. The precision and the speed with which he swung his sword were on another level compared to his old self from just two weeks ago. It was clear that his last fight with Izumo had given him a lot to think about, and he had already put that to good use, patching up his newly discovered weak spots and building on top of the new moves he had seen.
When Ken was put in a tight spot, having an enemy come at him right as he finished another swing, he did something he would have never thought about on his own. He let go of the hilt, and as the sword was falling, he grabbed the blade and smacked the tail end of the sword into the face of the enemy. More out of shock than out of pain, the soldier stopped for a second; that was just enough for Ken to stab him with the point of the blade.
"It seems we still have a lot to learn from him, huh?" Kotaro said as he noticed the move learned from their common friend.
"Hm, don't you have other things to focus on?"
"Oh?"
After being alerted by Ken, Kotaro turned his head to see a hail of arrows quickly heading their way. At the incoming attack, the boy smiled and made a simple gesture that brought with it a hail of raging wind, dispersing the immediate danger.
"Really, Ken? Was that enough to scare you?"
However, when Kotaro turned his gaze back, Ken noticed how he had missed one arrow. The swordsman quickly caught the arrow and threw it at an incoming soldier. As that soldier fell right in front of the two, he made way for an incoming group of horse riders aiming right for them.
Ken did not hesitate for a second. He ran towards the riders, and with a strong jump, he kicked off the leader of the squadron. From there, he went on to cut down every single one of the enemies surrounding them, displaying his signature skill of increasing the length of his blade whenever he swung it by adding sharp winds to his moves.
After making sure no animal was injured, Ken signed Kotaro to jump on a horse. Kotaro did just that, praising Ken with a clap.
"Maybe remember to pay more attention next time," Ken said, trying to hide his excitement.
"So, this area is clear. Let's get closer to the archers! Maybe this way we can distract more troops," he continued.
"I am betting on it! Can't let Izumo deal with all the strong ones!" Kotaro answered in a hurry. "Even so, is this really all there is to war? If that's all their soldiers can do, it kind of makes us look like some bloodthirsty bastards. Haha!"
And so, the two continued their ballsy attack, making sure that as few soldiers as possible noticed where their friend had run off to.
*****
Inside the castle, Izumo kept himself busy cutting through well-organized shinobi groups. In hindsight, those enemies were much more dangerous than the average foot soldier, and the way they organized themselves made fighting a whole garrison seem like the safer option. Izumo felt relieved at this thought. It seems he had made the right decision in the way he split the tasks.
"Still, is there really not a single big shot around to cave my face in?"
While the previous fights had brought Izumo a long way, he was far from invincible. He was confident that he could take out capable fighters as he had already dealt with plenty of samurai-level fighters on the battlefield. Judging by fighting ability alone, the boy was confident he could even take out that basil mercenary that threw him around with ease in his past life as Leo.
Even so, he knew better than to be complacent in the middle of a war. Logic dictates that the important pieces were lying around somewhere.
"That being said, even their leader went down without much trouble," Izumo said, looking down at the crisply burnt body of the man commanding the defenders.
From experience, he could tell this man wasn't the true head of his shinobi village. Those were, at the very least, masters of transmutation magic. It was a skill so difficult that Izumo couldn't even recall the basics of how to use it.
"If I was ever able to use it, that is," he muttered.
Somewhat disappointed, Izumo stepped over his last enemy and headed towards the main dormitory.
"Please don't let me find that guy in any questionable pose…"
But luck had never been on Izumo's side.
"Oh, come on!" the boy sighed as he saw the naked lord carrying his heavy body on his fragile legs behind a curtain.
"What? How did you get all the way here? Where the hell is…"
But the words of the daimyo stopped reaching Izumo the second he noticed the lady lying on the futon and covering herself with a finely crafted blanket.
"Mei… What are you doing here?"
At the sight of a familiar face, everything around the boy lost meaning. All Izumo could focus on was the scene portrayed in front of his eyes—played by his target and this woman especially dear to him.
"Mei, do you know this guy? What's your relationship with him?" the lord asked upon noticing the boy's shock.
"Nothing, daimyo-sama. He is somebody I am seeing for the first time!"
"Speak the truth, woman! How would somebody you are meeting for the first time know your name? Even with your popularity as an oiran, there is no way everyone in the country knows you. I will give you one more chance… Who is this boy?"
Having her cheap lie be seen through, Mei turned to the daimyo and bowed her head.
"I am sorry, daimyo-sama! You really are as sharp as they say. The truth is, he is an old client of mine."
"Oh? A client of yours? At his young age? You really are a sinful woman—"
Just as the daimyo finished his sentence, he felt a strong force push him to the ground. As he raised his face from the cold floor, he noticed nobody had moved. The force was neither wind nor a physical object, yet the daimyo simply failed to hold his own weight. He looked around trying to find an explanation, but his blood froze in his veins when his gaze locked with Izumo's.
The glare in the eyes of the boy was enough to have armies turn back in fear. That was not the look a boy should have. No, those were not the eyes of a man who could call himself sane.
Scared by the boy's approaching footsteps, the daimyo crawled to the corner of the room.
Suddenly, a hand grabbed Izumo.
"Stop it, dear! Please, do not let what flourished between us be blown away by the storm of your anger!"
As Mei grabbed him, Izumo's cold gaze found its way to the girl's face. At that moment, those cold eyes became excessively wet. While the killing intent did not leave the boy, the sadness that he felt at the exact same time was clear.
"Mei… what has he done to you?"
The boy's voice trembled as he looked at the naked body of his sister—his heart rapidly filling with both anger and shame. Seeing his older sister in such a vulnerable state made Izumo's stomach twist.
In a fit of rage, he yanked his hand away from the oiran's grasp. That's when he noticed it: a message, inscribed in blood from Mei's palm, lingering faintly on his wrist.
They have Dad. Run… Strong guard.
But the message that served to warn Izumo was enough to drive him to the brink.
Izumo stopped caring about danger. Seeing his sister in that manner and finding out that his dad is now captive was enough to drive Izumo mad with anger.
No matter who was coming to retake the castle, Izumo would not wait another moment. No risk mattered. The head of the daimyo was the price to be paid. There was enough time to worry after the deed was done.
As such, with a sharp gust of wind, Izumo aimed directly at the scared daimyo. His head was going to come off in one clean cut. However, a quick death was deemed too kind of a punishment by the boy, so he quickly changed his mind and decided to use fire.
That was the mistake that served to ruin Izumo's mission.
Before he could use the slower-moving fire, Izumo was blasted off his feet and thrown out the window.
He hit the ground outside the castle, then immediately looked up at the window he'd just been launched from. Standing there was a lone warrior, dressed in nothing but a casual, white yukata.
"Don't tell me you can use fire too! This is getting more and more interesting," the warrior said, showing a bright smile as he leapt down from the balcony.