Three days passed, and the great mound of Oboroshi rose before them, taller and more formidable each day. The wind seemed to grow colder once again, like a harsh bite amongst the pines. The travelers knew now that they were nearing the final stage of their journey and were both happy to have passed through the Kōhaichi unscathed, but also dreading what was to come. Saru, in particular, seemed more gloomy than usual, as a difficult choice weighed upon her.

  On the afternoon of the third day, the travelers came across a strange clearing in the woods, and within it were many tents. It was obvious that these were also travelers of some kind, though they had far greater numbers, perhaps a hundred or more. The three were quickly espied and interrogated, and it was discovered that this was the encampment of the Akai, of those who had made it through the pass and survived the slaughter.

  Saru did most of the talking, and when the guards realized who she was, she and her companions were accepted with great honor and were given food and rest. This was fortuitous, for the three had nearly run out of supplies and had been rationing the remainder carefully. Many of these people had been kinsmen of Chikara and his family, and though they suffered many dead and wounded, the survivors were ready to move at a moment’s notice. However, this remnant was divided on what to do: to return to Akai or to proceed further south. Many of the men had fallen in their encounter with the oni. This encampment was comprised mostly of the elderly, women, and children. The laughter of the children ringing about the clearing sounded strange yet wonderful to the weary travelers.

  After they were refreshed, they met with the leader of the encampment, an elder named Midiya. He was thin and quite old, but he had an upright posture, and his eyes were clear.

  “I am Chikara’s father-in-law,” he explained in a dry but strangely exuberant voice. “You have come at the last moment, but your arrival is still heralded as a miracle to us who survive. We prayed and prayed to the All-kami to give us some signs and some strength. Your coming, Saruko-hime, is both to us.”

  Saru bowed her head politely. “Thank you, Midiya-san. I do not know what services I can render you now, at this late hour. First, I must have more information. What more can you tell me of your plight?”

  Midiya’s old face wrinkled with visible pain. “It is dire, Saruko-hime. I do not know what we can do. Shiroha, by now, is reinforced by the oni who came up from the south. The pass is likely securely held by them. We cannot go north without fighting, and we cannot stay here as winter comes.”

  “I agree,” Saru said, thoughtfully. “You cannot stay here forever. Would any city to the south be a refuge?”

  Midiya shook his head. “Perhaps some would take us in, but in our condition, maybe half of us would survive the trip. We have only a few horses, and our supplies are limited.”

  Saru looked around. She could sense the frailty of the people and their waning strength. “Where are the remnants of Akai? Surely there must be some warriors left?”

  Midiya shrugged. “Many fled the sack of Shiroha and dispersed across the land. If you could gather them all together, that might be enough for some resistance, but to take Shiroha again, I do not think it is possible without outside help.”

  Suru was silent for a few moments. “You cannot fight, and you cannot flee. This is a difficult riddle to solve. However, one thing you said encourages me. If there are warriors left, then there is a chance. I’d measure one warrior of Akai against ten oni or more. Even a small company might be enough to do great deeds. We were taken by surprise and betrayed, but in a fair contest, I would take the spears of Akai over all the hordes of Kita-shima.”

  Midiya smiled and nodded. “Your confidence is like a cup of hot tea in winter. It has been long indeed since I have felt such strength. Most of our people are broken in spirit, but your fire may rekindle them.”

  Saru quickly glanced over at Gintaro and then back to Midiya. “There is a secret tunnel north of here, known only by the royal line and a few trusty retainers. It is narrow, but one by one, your company could do it. It makes traversing north possible, and you would not need to brave the pass of Akai. I could teach you of its location, and your group could go that way and gather with the remnant in the north.”

  To this, Midiya’s face showed concern. “This is good news indeed, but by your wording, it sounds like you might not come with us. How could this be, now that you have just arrived?”

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Once again, Saru glanced over to Gintaro, and then her face turned slightly red.

  “I…am still undecided about what I should do. There is another, very urgent matter I have to attend to first.”

  Midiya looked around, and he seemed now scared. “I understand you have come far, from the ends of the earth, it seems. And I, but a common man, cannot fathom the ways of your mind. But I must say this: if you do not lead these people, Saruko-hime, I do not know who can. We may reorganize just to be scattered again. We may catch fire just to burn out, like a flame in a storm.”

  Saru nodded, understanding, but said nothing further.

  The three were then given tents near the edge of the encampment, and each took a few hours of that afternoon to rest by themselves. Then they partook in the evening meal, which was cooked pork over fire and wild mountain vegetables. Though these people lived in great uncertainty, they still seemed to hold onto the fire of life and hope. This encouraged the three, whose hearts had grown cold due to the prolonged solitude of the hinterlands. The encampment even had sake, and because of the return of their princess, several bottles were opened and passed about. Even Gintaro drank some, which was unusual for him.

  As night came on, the people began to disperse and went to their tents. The evening watch was set. Nō met a retired warrior who told him of his many battles with the oni, so he sat aside the fire and listened to the man with great interest.

  Saru, who had been terse and quiet, which was much unlike herself for a feast, finally motioned for Gintaro to follow her. She led him to a quiet place away from the tents. They came to a small stream, from which the encampment gathered their water, and she sat down upon its bank. Gintaro sat down next to her.

  Nothing was said at first, as both watched the water glide above and about the smooth stones of the stream, reflecting the glittering stars overhead. The rustle of leaves could be faintly heard as the wind gently blew by them.

  “I already know what choice you made,” Gintaro said first, just as Saru opened her mouth.

  “You do?” she asked with a hint of intrigue.

  “If I learned anything about you from your travels, it is that you are a…” he paused.

  “Yes?”

  “You are an honorable person,” Gin stated, though he did not quite like his word choice in that moment.

  Saru did not like it either, as she frowned. “Honorable?”

  “I know you will do the right thing,” he explained. “I know you will lead these people north. I know you will do everything you can for them.”

  Saru smiled wryly. “You know me well.”

  “I also know you would have come with me all the way to the pits of Oboroshi, but I respect your decision.”

  “Gintaro, you know much, but not all, apparently,” Saru said, her facial muscles contracting as she fought to control her agitation.

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  Saru turned to face him, and her gaze met his. “Come with me,” she said. Her voice was calm but contained a note of desperation.

  “Saru,” Gin replied, his face tightening as if pained. “You know I would but…”

  “Come with me,” she said again, this time more vehemently. “You know what waits for you under Oboroshi, you have said it yourself. Death. The end of your journey. Why throw it all away? You could come with me. By myself, I can do little for the people of Akai, but you, is this not what you were born for? You are a Kaijin, are you not? Together, we could save these people. You must sense this in your heart.”

  Gintaro lowered his head and nodded slowly. “I know we could help,” was his response.

  “Then why not do it? Why not come with me?”

  “Because my daughter is still out there!” Gintaro suddenly cried, and as he lifted his eyes, they were red as if smoldering. “Do not tempt me! I know what I can do, I know what we could do, I know what I want to do, but I cannot.

  “Then you will let yourself die?” Saru returned. She was at first stunned by Gin’s sudden flash of anger, but her resolve hardened. “What good are you to her dead? And even if you were to somehow come out alive with the Sword of the Emperor, do you think the Shōgun would hand your daughter over just like that? Do you think he would just let you live?”

  “I must try,” he insisted. “There is no other way.”

  “There is another way, but you refuse to see it. You can choose yourself, for once, and be happy.”

  “I chose myself for many years,” Gin answered softly. “And I am still not done paying for it.”

  Saru’s fists tightened. “You live this life of self-influenced woe, a curse of your own choosing. I could help you bear it, but you shut me out. If you come to Akai, we could save my people there, then perhaps we could return to the New Capital and rescue your daughter. That is a far better plan than descending into hell and thinking you can return unscathed.”

  Gintaro frowned. “I am already in hell, so that matters not to me.”

  “Is this hell?” Saru asked and then leaned forward and kissed him hard.

  For a moment, Gintaro seemed to give in to her lips, but then suddenly pulled away.

  He breathed heavily, and he stared at Saru with amazement. “I care for you,” he said after several moments, and then he looked upon her with pity. “But I cannot go with you. I am sorry.”

  Of all things, a look of pity was something that Saru could not endure. “You are a fool, Gintaro!” she cried, rising to her feet. “The greatest fool I know.”

  She turned and stormed off, leaving Gintaro alone to stare at the stream and the stars, and meditate on the rustling of the leaves.

  “I am,” Gintaro silently agreed, “A greater fool there never was.”