A Time Traveller's Guide To Feudal Japan

"Take a seat, Isabella."

He said, as they entered into the office. It had now been changed a little, with the table standing higher than before, and cushions were set upon the floor to cushion their rears as they sat.

She noted this as she sat down, wondering how much time one would have to spend in the room to make such minute changes.

"Would you like anything to drink?"

"Ha. I won’t fall for that."

He raised an eyebrow as if to ask: "what do you mean?"

She twisted her mouth uncomfortably. She had meant it as a joke, but he had taken it seriously.

"Fine, I’ll have some tea, if you would."

He nodded. The kettle was already steaming hot, as Shibata had set it up beforehand. He poured their drinks into the small cups, and handed one to her.

He took a sip, before looking at her expectantly.

"Mm. Can I not enjoy the tea a little first?"

She complained, but once again she was met with that cold serious expression, and she sighed, relenting.

"Fine. He keeps the goods within his home."

"And where does that home lie?"

"About ten minutes outside of Toyokawa."

He nodded his understanding. It was difficult to give directions simply by speech, so he stood up, and wandered over to the cupboard.

She watched him go, wondering what he might produce. But when he returned with a sheet of paper and a charcoal stick, his intentions became clear.

"Draw a map, if you would. It does not have to be complicated. Just enough to direct us."

"Hmph..."

She placed her tea down, and felt the charcoal stick between her fingers. It was not often that she was required to draw things, so her hand was a little unsteady at first.

"Remember, the more accurate your map, the better our chances of finding the house are. And I’m sure you’re aware that your reward depends on whether we are successful or not."

"Yes, yes. I’m drawing it, okay?"

She muttered, irritated by his comment. It would be odd for any observer, for she was atleast three years older than he, yet she acted like the child. But of course, no observer would be aware of Gengyo’s secret.

Slowly a map started to come together. She depicted the main road from Toyone into Toyokawa, including squares meant to represent houses. That road continued onwards down to the port, but before it reached there, it branched off to the right, forming another street of housing and stalls. Down that road were various exits, but if one were to continue straight down it for a while, it started to grow thinner – or so it seemed from her drawing – and there would be a small trail coming off it to the left. If one was to continue down that trail, they would find his house, marked by an X.

She pushed the completed map towards him, as he picked it up with two fingers and observed it.

"Good."

He murmured in approval, quickly attempting to memorise it in case something were to happen with the map. The route was not overly complicated – or perhaps it was just the map that was simple – so it was not overly difficult.

"You said you went inside his house, correct?"

He looked over the top of the paper, confirming with her the information she had offered earlier.

"That’s right."

She already knew what was coming next, as he pushed another, blank sheet of paper her way.

"Would you mind drawing a map of the inside?"

This time she did not complain, but merely took the page and began drawing. His words – though she was annoyed by them at first – had made her more attentive to the small details, as she realized the probability of her getting paid was raised by the quality of the information she was able to give.

The house, as depicted by her, was a simple square. There was a corridor, along which there were various rooms. It appeared rather wide. But then that corridor branched off to the left, and the first room present after branching off was marked with an X.

As well as the rooms, she included large circles at certain points around the perimeter of the building.

"What are those?"

He asked, as she showed him the completed product.

"Guards. He had eight guards with him at the stall, and there were two standing guard outside his house. That’s as much as I know."

He took in the information, nodding with genuine approval.

"You’re remarkably good at this, Isabella."

He said honestly. As an intelligence agent, she ticked all the right boxes. Her memory was keen, she was a good actor, and she had an appearance that made people let their guards down.

Surprised by his sudden compliment, she drew the attention elsewhere. She was unused to compliments – except those directed toward her looks, which were entirely predictable – because of her long-time spent as a slave.

She took her veil off, as though ignoring his comment.

"I don’t have to wear this anymore, do I?"

She asked, sounding irritated.

"Not if you don’t wish to."

He responded indifferently. He was not about to take any offence at her attitude.

He cleared his throat, as silence had reigned for a while.

"Well, you’ve done all that I asked of you and more, Isabella. As soon as the success of this mission is secured, you will receive your promised reward."

"Good. When do you intend to leave?"

She asked, as she got up and walked toward the door.

He glanced out of the window in response to her words, taking note of the setting sun.

"Tonight."

She looked surprised at his response, but said nothing, and with a nod, she took her leave. Once again Shibata was there to escort her back outside.

He watched her go, before standing up himself, so that he might get some fresh air from the window.

’So here we are, Gengyo. The first piece of chaos caused entirely by you, are you excited?’

He asked himself, as though talking to a different person. Though his internal voice was calm, his whole body was tensed in anticipation. The project in the fields and his work with the wheel – they were good. They helped to keep the darkness at bay. But they were far from enough.

This was it. This was his true calling. He had made his life, in the modern world, as an engineer. But his new role, as – or at least, this was how he thought of it – a bringer of chaos, was far more fulfilling. Far more exciting. It allowed him to explore a part of himself that had always been kept repressed.

He moved forwards, his fingers dancing lightly on top of a cupboard, as he created his own suspense before opening it. Inside, was a sack. A sack that he had known was there.

’Whilst you two were busy, Jikouji and Isabella, I have been at work too.’

He thought to himself, as he squeezed the sack tightly within his palm, remembering the contents.

It was time, finally. He stepped out of the threshold of his door a different man than he had been when he’d walked in. Even the way he walked was different. No longer did he take calm, measured steps, but he adopted a swagger filled with confidence. No longer was his face that of a mild-mannered master of a small village, it was curled into a vicious smile, like a pirate that had just found fresh prey.

There was, of course, one-stop he had to make before he could begin his own preparations. And that was to call his men. He knew where he would find Jikouji at this time, and find him there he did.

He caught him mid-motion as he spooned a chunk of salmon toward his mouth.

"Call the men, Jikouji. Arm yourselves. The Red Feather will cause a fire this night."

He dropped the chopsticks from his hand, any thoughts of sating his hunger forgotten. This was a different kind of hunger, and it overpowered that primal instinct to consume food.

He grinned as he uttered his response.

"All of them lad?"

"Aye – they’re all fit. They’re all well. Let us give the world hell."

"Ah, those men will weep when they find they’ve been killed by a poet."

Jikouji joked gruesomely in response to his rhyming. He was on his feet in a matter of seconds, reaching for his blade. He was eager to arm himself, but he then remembered his responsibility, and with a tut, left to call the men.

Gengyo had already disappeared, and was back in his own house, staring at a stand that wore his pure, black armour. He’d had them refashioned, and he’d ordered a set for each of the men. The purity of the black was magnificent, and the sound of the groaning leather as he put it on was music to his ears.

’How beautiful is black...’

He said in awe, as he looked at the shiny black of his new leather gloves. He drew the sword from its scabbard, and stared at himself in the reflection.

"Almost... perfect..."

He breathed, fogging up the blade.

Near the hilt had been carved an inscription in kanji. He had watched the swordsmith engrave it himself.

"Bringer of chaos."

He read aloud, vowing to right by the name of the blade.

The reason the armour was not yet perfect, was because his head and face were still unadorned, but he would wait till the men were gathered for that small detail.

He met them in the courtyard, under the darkness of night. The only thing visible were their faces.

"Who are we going to kill today, lad?"

Morohira asked with a bloodthirsty smile.

"Whoever gets in our way. We’re going to rob a man."

He said quietly, so that the servants who were saddling their horses would not overhear.

The announcement of robbery caused surprise to cross their faces, and some even moved to protest. But they stopped themselves. What was so wrong about robbery? Had they not been robbed too? Of their dear friends?

"I’m with you, Miura. Let’s cause hell."

Aritada said confidently, gripping his sword tightly. They all appeared to like the way their new armour felt, as they continually flexed their hands just to hear and feel the groan of the leather.

"Aye, I didn’t expect this. But f.u.c.k it, I’m in."

Jikouji said. He’d expected the plan the lad spoke of to be more... legal. But it did not matter. They were going up against the Daimyo. That was the height of criminality. What they did in between was insignificant. What did it matter if they caused pandemonium in the life of one man, who was seemingly unrelated? The world was a cruel place, and if you did not have the strength to defend yourself, then all you own will be snatched away from you.

"We do what we want, right Miura?"

Kitajo said, grinning, remembering the words Gengyo had spoken to him back at the farm.

"Exactly. I am willing to plough down all who stand in the way, so that we can make Imagawa face justice."

He said ruthlessly, looking each man in the eye, daring them to object. But none did. It was how they felt as well. They had been betrayed so viciously, it was not within their blood to show mercy again.

"Meh, sounds complicated to me. But I do miss nicking stuff."

Ii said with a grin, as his friends appeared to second his words with their nods.

"Mount up then, fellas. We have to make good time, and reach Toyokawa within a few hours."

Gengyo instructed, seeing that their horses were ready.

"Ah, wait. I forgot about this."

He remembered the bag by his side.

They gathered round to see what he held. And there it was, a mask of the purest black, with large pointed horns. Each was identical, and unmistakable. They were the masks of demons.