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Chapter Text

Hokusha rode atop her red elk Fushi through the semi-arid countryside leading to the village ahead, continuing down the long road she’d travelled for 18 months already. She passed a few humble farms that bordered the river that the trail paralleled, as well as some grazing land for cattle. There were too few goats in the field, and the crops in the farm looked wilted.

It had been four days since the last time she’d spoken to anyone other than Fushi – usually villages were kept within a day’s ride of each other, but she’d recently crossed from the territory of one of the Wind Daimyos into that of one of the Fire Daimyos. These two lands often fought with each other, although they weren’t at war currently, and any village that was too close to the border would get destroyed in a raid sooner or later, so the people had learned to keep their distance. She’d already passed the ancient ruins of three villages in this four-day ride, without a single person to be found between them.

It was just the latest reminder of the terrible state of their world. Lands constantly at war with each other. Everywhere she walked she saw shinobi profaning the teachings of the Great Sage and Buddha, Hagoromo, into weapons of violence. Feudal lords hiring those shinobi bands to attack each other – and of course, the feudal lords themselves were never in danger, the people who died were always the men and women whose towns were raided, or the poor villagers who were conscripted to serve as border guards, only to be burnt alive, or drowned, or crushed in stone by the same men that their own lord would turn around and hire to attack his enemies a month later.

Hokusha often wondered if the Buddha had seen these same atrocities when he walked this path so many centuries ago. It was a matter of historical fact that his teachings had improved the world for a time, but humans are violent and sinful at their cores, which is why the world needed Six Paths Ronin, people like Hokusha, to correct the course of mankind when they went astray.

As she passed the torii gate into town the first of the villagers saw her and the muttering began immediately. They saw a stranger riding confidently atop an animal they had probably never seen a human ride, with a sword at her waist, and assumed she was a ninja. They feared her, as they feared any armed stranger, and were probably right to do so.

She stopped outside of the tavern and stepped down from Fushi’s saddle. “Careful,” she warned the elk, “these people are pretty jumpy. Just keep your head down and don’t start any fights until I get back, okay?”

Fushi puffed disdainfully. “What, you think I can’t handle myself against these guys? They’re half starved farmers, I’ll be fine.”

“Exactly, they’re half starved and you’re made of tasty tasty meat,” she said, patting his muzzle playfully. “As for them being farmers, Master Soza always said that half of the best swordsmen in history died to a pitchfork because they got cocky. Personally I think most of them died to shinobi witchcraft, but his point stands. Keep your wits about you. I’m gonna head in and see if I can find us some work.”

She dusted off her black and brown kimono – which had started as a black and white kimono before a year and a half of road dirt accumulated on it – and stepped in through the curtained doorway. The tavern inside was only dimly lit through the aged dirty windows. There was a man behind the bar with a slim, lanky build, big green hooded eyes, and long pointed beard that somehow gave the impression of a praying mantis.

The man’s eyes went wide when he saw the sword at her waist and he immediately bowed. “Hello mistress ninja! How can I serve you?”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary sir! I’m not a ninja, just a simple travelling samurai. I’m from the order of Six Paths, have you heard of us?”

The man’s posture relaxed instantly. “Oh, good. I thought you were one of the Daimyo’s tax collectors. My name is Miyoshi, and yes, I’ve heard of your order. One of your brethren passed through a few years back, we gave him a sack full of bread in exchange for his assistance building one of our houses. But I’m afraid I can’t offer you the same deal. We’re having a drought year and supplies are tight. I could offer you some goat meat, but we’ve lost most of our herd and more than a few of our shepherds to a pack of wolves that moved into the woods down the road, we don’t have any food to spare.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Do you think one of your people could point me in the direction these wolves have been attacking from? I could deal with them, and bring you their bodies. If you salted it right away, their meat could help you to survive the winter, and if you sold the pelts they might help you to afford your lords taxes.”

“That.. that would be amazing! You can do that?”

“Probably! My friend and I are pretty tough, we can at least give it a-” she was cut off by a warbling bleating noise from Fushi just outside.

Without a word she rushed outside – that warbling bleat was Fushi’s signal that something bad was happening. It took her eyes a second to adjust as she burst out into the mid-day light, but slowly they came to focus on a trio of armored figures – a man and two adolescent boys, one with brown hair and the other with white hair.

The man eyed Hokusha and the sword at her waist, but ignored her for the time being. He pulled out a small gong and hammered it three times with the butt of a kunai. “People of Whitetail! Your lord, the esteemed daimyo Yoshu Fukong has called upon you to contribute to your kingdom. Each household must contribute 50 ryo to the royal coffers, or an equivalent value of produce.”

The villagers started filing in from the fields, whispering among themselves. Mr. Miyoshi stepped out from the tavern and bowed to the ninja, his hands clasped in supplication. “Please sir! I’m sorry, but we don’t have enough to give. We already don’t won’t produce enough food this season to feed us all this winter, but if we give you what little we have now it could mean death for our whole village come winter time.”

The man sighed, scratched his beard, and looked at the two boys to his side who looked back at him expectantly. “That’s… unfortunate. The daimyo has offered that, if you are not able to pay the taxes in grain, you can pay in livestock. If you cannot afford livestock, you can offer up some of your able-bodied men and women to be sold as slaves. But one way or another the tithe must be satisfied.”

The muttering of the villagers was more frantic now, and Mr. Miyoshi looked terrified. Hokusha stepped up to the ninja, close enough that their conversation could not be heard by the villagers. “Hello sir, my name is Hokusha, and I am a ronin of the school of Six Paths. I beg you, return to your lord and tell him that there was no tithe to be collected here, or else take only what these people can afford. If they lose any of their oxen they won’t be able to work the fields, if they lose any goats they won’t have any milk to drink or wool to sell. Either way, they’ll end the year poorer than they already are, and will have even less to give next time. That goes doubly if you take any of their working age people. Please, tell your lord they have nothing to give.”

The man sighed and scrubbed at his beard some more. He spoke quietly, “I’m sorry Hokusha. I’ve heard of your order and I understand the situation this puts you in, but you must understand, we have a contract. If the daimyo doesn’t get his taxes we won’t get hired again next season, and I have an obligation to my clan.”

Hokusha was silent for a while, steeling her resolve. “You know I can’t let you rob these people of the resources they need to survive, right?”

The man nodded, speaking even quieter than before. “That’s… unfortunate. And you understand that I can’t let you stop me, right? It would bring shame to my clan.”

Hokusha sighed sadly. “Yeah, I understand. The emblem on your pauldrons – you are from the Senju, yes? Your clan is known to be honorable among shinobi. Would you consent to a duel on the road outside of town to decide the matter?”

The man gave a relieved nod. “I was hoping you would allow that, I don’t want these people caught in the crossfire.”

“Speaking of crossfire, I don’t suppose you could order your wards to stay behind? I’m not excited to hurt children.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, they’re supposed to be receiving practical battle experience. These boys have already killed more than a dozen men each, don’t worry about them.”

Those words filled Hokusha’s soul with such sadness. How could these people do that to children? How could they talk about it like it was a good thing?

“Okay. In that case, can I bring along my companion Fushi,” she asked, nodding at the red elk behind her.”

The man seemed surprised by the request, but consented. He led the five of them out of town, a few minutes’ walk away so the villagers couldn’t get caught in any stray attacks. The villagers, heedless of the danger, all stood around the town’s torii gate, watching with bated anticipation.

They agreed on an open stretch of road by a small grove of sickly-looking trees. Both parties took their allotted time to prepare – the Senju youths stretched and held a terse whispered conversation. The Senju man pulled a summoning scroll from his belt and used it to summon a naginata, a long-bladed spear, which he twirled between his hands with practiced ease.

Hokusha pressed her hands against the summoning seal she kept on the back of Fushi’s saddle, materializing a suit of armor around herself and a set of barding around Fushi. The armor for both of them was extensive – Fushi’s barding fully covered his neck, chest, back, and sides, with custom grieves that wouldn’t limit his movement, and helmet that wouldn’t interfere with his antlers. Hokusha’s own armor was an intimidating sight – gauntlets and grieves, a breastplate under a jinbaori coat, a skirt of tassets and cuisses, light pauldrons, and over the pauldron on her left side a thick domaru sode – a rectangular slab that she could use as a shield without sacrificing her dexterity. She wore a broad helmet with a crest like a diamond containing nine rings. Her armor was all painted pristine black and white, disrupted only by the nine tomoe on the back of her coat, representing her temple, the sakura leaf petal on the front of her breastplate, representing her family, and the crest of her helmet, all of which were a vibrant teal color outlined by gold to match the coloration of her sword’s sheath and hilt.

The two of them looked comically overdressed compared to their opponents, who each wore a simple robe under a light breastplate and pauldrons. But both parties were dressed appropriately for their combat roles – the ninja’s light armor would allow them to focus on evasion and attacking with thrown weapons and witchcraft. Samurai, who abhorred the use of chakra to injure, would need to close the gap and attack at close quarters, and their heavy armor allowed them to absorb most ranged attacks unharmed.

The Senju lined up on the side of the road with the stream to their back. Hokusha and Fushi stood on the side opposite them, about twenty feet away.

“This is your last chance,” the man called, “concede, let us be about our business, and it will be no dishonor upon you. You stood up for your convictions, we refused to step aside. You can still walk away from this.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t. I’ll do my best to detain your wards unharmed so I can return them to their family.”

“And we’ll do the same for your companion. Boys, stay back from the fight until you see a clean opening, I don’t want you taking any unnecessary risks.”

“Fushi…” She almost shouted her orders back to him like the man had done, but she didn’t want to give them that advantage. Instead, she gave a long low whistle and three clicks – their code for “circle around, distract but don’t kill”.

The man drew a coin from his robe pocket. “When the coin hits the ground, we will begin.”

He flipped it up in the air. It sparkled in the sunlight. He readied a one-handed stance with his spear. Hokusha grabbed the hilt of her sword, Kanahide, and brushed her thumb over the lock at its base to make sure it was sealed solid. The boys dug their hands into the pouches on their belts, doubtless grabbing handfuls of shuriken or kunai to throw at her. Fushi lowered his head, puffing out angry snorts and scratching at the ground with one hoof.

The coin thudded to the road between them.

The man shouted some nonsense about a wave jutsu and blew out a massive wall of water. Hokusha performed a chakra-enhanced leap forward, drawing her sword, still locked in its sheath, just as she crested the wave. Fushi darted to the left at a speed most humans wouldn’t think possible. The boys began throwing shuriken, but they all dinged impotently off Hokusha’s armor.

Hokusha came down, feinting a sheathed sword blow at the man’s head, which he raised his spear to block, but she instead rolled her landing straight into a cross-legged sweep that knocked him to the ground. She aimed a blow at the man’s head, but he blocked it with his forearm and thrusted his spear at her face which forced her to step back.

A few shuriken bounced off the back of her breastplate, and she could faintly hear one of them rushing toward her, followed by a cry and a crash as Fushi sent the boy flying into a tree beside the road. The other boy let out a winded cry followed by a splash of water. The stream must have been at least thirty feet behind the boy’s position, Fushi was hitting them way too hard. Hokusha gave three loud clicks as she parried a few of the man’s blow against her sheathe, reminding Fushi to be gentle with them.

The man weaved a few one-handed signs as he advanced, then threw himself forward as if he were going to attempt a summersault. His free hand hit the ground and propelled him forward as his spear lunged at her chest. She tried to jump backward out of the spear’s reach, but her back thudded against a wall of stone that burst out of the ground. She didn’t have time to parry, barely had time to twist so the spearhead went into her shoulder instead of her heart.

She lashed out with her sheathed sword, cracking the man in the ribs but he withdrew his spear with barely a wince and backflipped away from her. “Why have you not drawn your sword, samurai?! Do you mean to insult me?! I promise you, if you don’t approach this fight with lethal intent, you will die.”

Hokusha sighed, unclasped her sheath’s lock, and drew out her sword, the sun flashing along its blade. “I promise you I meant no insult. I had hoped I could beat you nonlethally, but that is starting to seem unlikely. This sword is named Kanahide, it is one of the forty-seven heavenly swords forged by Asura Otsusuki to seal away the evil of the world. I don’t believe you are evil and would rather not taint this blade with the blood of a good man, but if you insist on doing the work of evil men than you are accomplice to their evil.”

The man sighed and winced, rubbing a hand over his injured ribs. “Has anyone ever told you that you samurai are kind of obnoxious? We live in the real world, me and my family need to eat. So yes, we’re going to work paid jobs using the skills we’ve developed. Skills we’re quite good at, in fact. Skills like this.”

The man wove some signs, pointed two fingers at Hokusha, and a jet of water burst forth, so tightly condensed that it cut deeply into the stone behind her as she dodged to the side. She wove signs and burst her own earthen wall out of the ground between them, ducking behind it. Less than a second later the beam of water began cutting through that wall, angling in toward her, so she summoned another, angled in at him. She repeated this again and again, racing with her walls against his beam of water as she spiraled in on him.

She was growing tired quickly – her schooling at the temple had mostly focused on taijutsu and the philosophical teachings of Hagoromo of the Six Paths. She knew a few earth style jutsu and a fair amount of medical ninjutsu, but unlike the ninja she hadn’t trained for their use in combat. But she should be close enough by now.

She summoned two more walls, burning dangerously low on her chakra reserves. But rather than running alongside them as she’d trained him to expect, she jumped to the top of the second-to-last wall and leapt straight at the man. He tried to redirect his beam at her, but too slowly, and she buried her feet into his face, sending him sprawling.

She shouted “yield!” as she charged at his prone form.

“Never!” he shouted back as he rolled to a crouching position and brought his spear slicing in toward her head. Without a hint of resistance Kanahide’s blade sliced cleanly through the shaft of the spear and the man’s side. She immediately kicked the man in the chest, knocking him onto his back again before he could get over his stunned silence.

“How?” the man gasped out as she crouched over his chest, the tip of Kanahide’s blade scratching into his breastplate.

“Chakra blade. Yield now and I can heal that wound. Don’t waste your life.”

The man laughed, which dissolved into a bloody cough. “Tell the boys I’m sorry. Death before dishonor.” He whipped the remaining length of spear up toward the side of her head, and Hokusha threw herself down to avoid the thrust.

She sat up as his arm went limp, and looked in horror at the hilt of Kanahide buried into the center of the man’s chest and the dusty road beneath it. This was the first man she’d ever killed. His blood was spraying up around her sword’s tsuba, soiling the pristine white of her armor, splashing across her face.

No time. No time to process this. Fushi could be in danger – even if they’re still young, two ninja boys could be horribly dangerous. She withdrew her sword from the man’s chest, grimacing at the burst of blood this provoked, wiped it off on her coat, and locked it into its scabbard. She made her way to the bank of the stream.

Both of the boys stood with their backs to her, attempting to kill Fushi who stood on the opposite bank of the river. The white-haired boy was alternating between thrown shuriken, which bounced harmlessly off Fushi’s armor, and sprays of water – these Fushi avoided easily, he was one of the fastest deer alive after all, but even if they hit they probably wouldn’t be any real danger to him, they didn’t have the lethal density that the boy’s teacher’s attacks had. The other boy was decidedly more interesting – he was somehow summoning trees out of the ground to trap and entangle Fushi. This kept forcing Fushi to either move downstream from the trees the boy summoned, which just pushed him further and further from engagement range, or climb atop him, where the boy would extend the trees to attempt to grab him again.

Neither boy noticed Hokusha approach. She smacked one across the head with the scabbard of Kanahide and slammed its pommel into the other’s temple – pulling both blows as Master Soza had taught her, so that they dazed the targets but didn’t have much risk of serious injury. Before either boy could recover she drew two rolls of cloth from her coat pocket and tied both boys’ arms behind their backs and hooking a sealing tag onto each of their bonds. That would seal their chakra inside of them, and along with their bound hands, prevent either from being a real threat. With that, she whistled to Fushi to let him know the fight was over and sat with her back to a tree to catch her breath.

Chapter Text

A week had passed since the incident in that small town. They were deep in the heart of the Lands of Fire by now, passing through a quiet little fiefdom, one that had been at peace with its neighbors for many years. Consequently, they were the first kingdom she’d seen in a long time that didn’t have bands of ninja roaming through it.

“Hey,” Fushi called up to her, “I hear a stream ahead, we should stop for a drink. Then you’re walking the next stretch, I’m tired of carrying your fat butt.”

Hokusha gasped in mock indignation – “How dare you, sir! I am a very healthy weight for a girl my age! You just _think_ I’m fat because when we met I was a malnourished little stick of a teenager. Four years of rigid exercise, plus a year and a half of eating people food instead of monastery food, and I have become a prime physical specimen! Honestly, I’m surprised to hear you complaining, considering how you always talk about being the strongest red elk in your clan and all.”

Fushi nickered at her jibe. “Fastest, not strongest! If you wanted a companion who would just carry you everywhere you should have asked for Koji – he’s the size of a shed, but it’d take him a month to get from one village to the next. Now me, I’m all about sprinting. You want me to get you to your enemy before they finish weaving their first sign, I can do that! But I’m not some pack mule that needs manual labor to feel alive. I like a nice relaxed stroll from time to time.”

Hokusha dismounted as Fushi finished cantering up to the stream. It was shallow enough that they could ford it pretty easily without having to use any chakra for water-walking, but the locals had built a fairly nice little bridge across it so they wouldn’t have to get their feet wet.

Fushi went up to get a drink while Hokusha went to fill her waterskins. She was a minute into the procedure, her mind wandering, when she felt a presence nearby. She casually placed her waterskins to the side and turned slowly with her hand resting on the hilt of her sword, wary of an ambush.

Instead, she found a boy, maybe eight or nine years old, sitting on a stump nearby and staring at a tree. She looked around for any sign of attackers in hiding, and content that there was no one around except the squirrels, slowly approached the boy.

“Hello there,” she said. “I’m Hokusha, what’s your name?” The boy had an unruly mop of brown-black hair and was wearing a cheap tunic, work slacks, and, for no explicable reason, tinted goggles that made it impossible to see his eyes.

The boy gave a little start, as if he hadn’t noticed her. Which was impossible, because she and Fushi were having a loud conversation in the middle of an empty stretch of woods. “Oh! Hi! I’m Kanto.”

“Hi Kanto. Can I ask what you’re doing out here?”

“I was watching the squirrels.” He said, looking up at the pair of squirrels that had run up to the top of the tree at her approach.

“Oh, sorry I spooked them. Do you live around here?”

“It’s okay, they were getting bored of showing off, they're ready to go hunt for nuts,” the boy said, “I live just up the road, in the clearing. Are you a merchant or something?”

“Well, I’m a pilgrim. Do you know what pilgrims are?”

“Like religious folks, right?”

“Yeah, like religious folks that are going on a really long road trip, basically. So Kanto, I’m heading down the road that way and I’m going to stop by your parents’ house and ask if they can spare any food – do you want a lift? My buddy Fushi would be happy to give you a ride.”

Kanto looked downstream at the large red elk who was enthusiastically lapping up water. “Um… sure! It’ll probably be dinner time soon anyway.”

As they approached Fushi, Kanto told Hokusha “he’s so huge! I didn’t know it was possible to ride an elk, where did you get him?”

“She didn’t _get_ me! My class of elks met with her class of samurai and chose who we wanted to partner with, and I chose her! Of course, at the time she had half the weight and twice the respect.”

Hokusha was expecting the shock that most people showed on hearing Fushi talk, but Kanto just enthusiastically skipped up to Fushi and introduced himself. “Hi, you’re Fushi, right? I’m Kanto! You have a really nice coat, you must take great care of it.”

“Hey, Hokusha? I like this one. Yeah, I’m Fushi, I’m the one who carries Hokusha all over this continent and she complains when I want a break.”

She shrugged playfully, “I’m just saying, I thought you would appreciate a little light strength training if you’re still hoping to be the fastest deer alive one day.”

Kanto looked back at her shocked, the expression comical with the top half of his face covered in goggles, “Wait, you can hear him too?”

“Um… yeah? He was speaking out loud.”

“Huh,” the boy said, looking back at Fushi, “I’m used to being the only one who can understand animals.”

Fushi looked mildly alarmed, “uh, well, I’m speaking in the standard human dialect. Anyone could understand me. Wait, you can understand wild animals?”

Kanto shrugged. “Sure, I guess. I’ve always been able to, I’m still trying to figure out why it’s so hard for everyone else.”

Fushi and Hokusha looked at each other with bewildered expressions. There was a clan in the land of waves that could allegedly talk to animals and transform into terrible monsters, could this boy be one of them?

“So Fushi,” Kanto interrupted her train of thought, “You're trying to become the fastest deer alive, right? How fast can you go?!”

Fushi looked back at Hokusha with a mischievous expression. “Well sis? Whaddya say, can I show him how fast I can go?”

Hokusha sighed. “Fine, have fun showing off. Make sure not to drop him. I’ll catch up.”

Fushi laughed triumphantly and kneeled down so Hokusha could hoist Kanto up onto his saddle.

Hokusha gave the boy a hand up into the saddle. “Kanto, you see that knob at the end of the saddle? That’s the saddle horn. You’re gonna want to grab that with both hands, and crouch down real low to reduce the wind resistance – just like that, perfect. Now, as soon as you say you’re ready he’ll start GRADUALLY building up speed,” she made sure to catch Fushi’s eye for that part, “and if you ever get overwhelmed or feel like you’re gonna fall of just tell him to stop or slow down and he will. Right, Fushi?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure, I’ll be gentle with the kid. So, how about it Kanto? You ready to go fast?”

“READY!”

Fushi started at a canter, then rapidly accelerated to a gallop, then continued accelerating until he was only a cloud of dust on the horizon. It took Hokusha half an hour of walking to reach the clearing in the woods with a large log cabin. She found Kanto sitting on the porch with his siblings, the four of them excitedly talking with Fushi about life on the road while his parents sat on chairs nearby smiling at the kids.

She walked up and patted Fushi on the neck. “So how’d you do big dude? I assume you timed yourself.”

“Just a bit short of three minutes! I could have done it in half the time, but I had to take my time speeding up and slowing down so I didn’t lose this shrimp.”

“It was awesome!” Kanto exclaimed. His hair was blown straight back and seemed to be stuck like that – combined with the tinted goggles it was a decidedly goofy look.

As soon as Kanto addressed her the other kids seemed to take it as an opening to make their own introductions, which all blurred together into an indecipherable cacophony. One of them was a toddler who just kinda babbled at her, another was a little girl just a bit younger than Kanto, and the last was a teenage boy who looked to be almost as old as Hokusha herself. Interestingly, other than Kanto every member of the family had fine golden blond hair, a sharp contrast with Kanto’s thick brown-black hair. The oldest sibling was unusually muscley for a boy his age, built like an ox – a build that was mirrored in the older man sitting on the chair behind them. She guessed that the two of them must have serious manual labor jobs to earn muscles like that.

“Okay, everyone inside! Get washed up and ready for dinner while your father and I talk to this nice lady.” The mother of the family walked over to her, smiling apologetically. “Sorry about that. I’m Min, and this old bear over here is my husband Masao. I take it you’re Hokusha? Fushi’s been telling us about you.”

“Oh really? I promise I’m not half as bad as he says.” She remembered her manners and bowed to the older woman. “It’s lovely to meet you, Min and Masao. If I may, Fushi and I have been on the road all day and don’t have anywhere to sleep nor food to eat. If you’d be willing to put us up for a couple days, we’d be happy to help you out with any chores you have!”

“Well that’s kind of you! We don’t have any beds to spare, but we have a futon you can sleep on and some spare blankets, and you’re more than welcome to a seat at our table, we could use the company. In fact, dinner will be done in a few minutes if you want to come in and make yourself comfortable.”

“That would be wonderful, thank you! Um, one thing – is it alright if my companion Fushi comes in too? I know a lot of families aren’t used to hosting talking animals, but I promise he’ll be good.”

“Yeah,” Fushi interjected, “Hokusha and I were both raised in noble houses, not that you’d believe it seeing us today. And unlike her, I actually remember most of my lessons in etiquette.”

“Oh! Well… sure! You’ll just have to excuse us if we do anything wrong, we’ve never hosted a deer before. Oh, and you’ll want to be careful, I’m afraid our house wasn’t built to accommodate someone of your size.”

Masao let out a barking laugh. “Hah! Min, if the house can has room for great big bulls like me and Bakuro I’m sure Fushi will squeeze in just fine.”

Masao turned out to be correct – Fushi needed to tilt his head a bit to get his antlers through the front door, but after Hokusha helped him put on his house slippers (custom made for his clan by their in-house cobblers) he was able to navigate the house without so much as scratching the floor or denting a wall.

Hokusha left her sword, along with Fushi’s saddle and the rest of their pack, in the closet that Min indicated she could use, and found a seat at the table next to Kanto.

Kanto and his barely-younger sister, Rina, helped their mother carry over the food and set the table. There was a tray of dumplings, a huge pot of rice, seared carrots, and a pickled vegetable medley, with a plum sauce on the side for dipping or pouring on top. It was rich and warm, the sauce made the dumplings and carrots delectably sweet, and the pickled vegetables were spicy and sour and oh so crisp. After years of eating unsalted rice and tofu at the monastery she’d promised herself she’d never take food for granted again, and she held to that promise.

Fushi sat a few feet away from the table with his plate on the floor – far enough away that he could eat without jostling anyone with his horns, but close enough to participate in the conversation.

Hokusha noticed that Kanto, sitting beside her, was still wearing his tinted goggles, even at the table. She started to ask him about them when his brother asked her, from across the table, “So, Hokusha. You had that sword with you – are you a ninja? We don’t get many around here, and I’ve heard they rarely travel alone.”

“Well, first of all, I’m not alone. I have Fushi to watch my back. But no, I’m not a ninja. I’m a samurai from the order of Six Paths – we’re kind of like warrior monks, we try to make the world a better place.”

“Oh, really? What good deeds are you doing all the way out here, in the middle of nowhere?”

“Well, actually, I don’t choose my goal to pursue until after I graduate. But before I can do that, I have to finish my Musha-Shugyō. Basically, once we’re done with our training – learning to defend ourselves and others, as well as history and philosophy and all the teachings of the Sage of Six Paths – we’re sent to walk the road that Hagoromo of the Six Paths walked almost a millennium ago. It’s a road that goes out in each of the six directions and covers every part of our continent. The Musha-Shugyō is an opportunity for us to see the world firsthand, get practice applying the skills we’ve been learning, and learn what kinds of problems people in the world are facing, so we can eventually decide which of the Six Paths we’re going to dedicate our lives to.”

The broad-shouldered boy looked impressed, and a little confused. “That sounds really cool, but I don’t really get what these ‘Six Paths’ are. I’ve heard of the Sage of Six Paths a couple times – he was like a really famous ninja or something, right? You made it sound like the paths were physical roads, but also like they were a philosophy or something.”

Hokusha grimaced at the idea of calling Hagoromo Otsusuki a ‘ninja’. “Well, they’re kinda both. So, the Sage of Six Paths was a man named Hagoromo Otsusuki. He traveled the world along six major roads that fanned out from his home in the modern-day Land of Grass, and as he went he taught humankind how to use chakra, as well as how to live right with the world. According to scripture, his understanding of the world evolved as he walked these six roads, and he came up with six principles, goals that a person could pursue to live a good life. He called these the Six Great Paths of Enlightenment.”

“The first Path was the Path of the Deva – a Deva is an archaic word for like a god, but a very benevolent and kind sort of god – it describes our relationship with goodness, both in ourselves and others. One who follows the Path of the Deva spends their life meditating on the best ways people can make the world a better place, and teaching those ideas to the people they meet. It’s about spreading faith and kindness in the world.”

“The second Path was the Path of the Naraka. Naraka is a place of suffering that bad people were thought to go as punishment for their actions. This path studies the evil that exists between people and the necessity to recognize it in ourselves and work to overcome it. To dissuade others from the seeds that cause evil – but also our responsibility to recognize evil as a natural state of mankind and not to condemn individuals for their thoughts and feelings, but only their actions. Samurai who follow this path usually walk the world casting down tyrants and gang lords and fighting crime and stuff.”

“The third Path was the Path of the Asura. Asuras were gods, but unlike the Devas they were controlling and rigid gods who demanded a lot from their worshippers. This path is all about our relationship to those with power – ninjas and daimyos, as well as teachers and parents and employers and such – as well as with our own responsibilities and the people we have power over. It explains that power should be used to empower and protect others, and that the accumulation of power for the sake of power is never good, nor is the use of power to hurt others, and it encourages us to stand up to those who misuse their power. Samurai on the Path of the Asura are usually involved in politics, as advisors and such. They work to make sure the people in power are using their power the right way.”

“The fourth Path was the Path of the Preta. Pretas are, like, ghosts and zombies and evil spirits – things that want to hurt people. This Path explores our relationship with angry spirits, man-eating animals, natural disasters, tailed beasts, etc. To recognize the ones that are actively evil and attempt to seal them away, as well as the ones that are natural and only doing what is within their nature, and to use preparation and diligence to protect ourselves from them. Like, an evil spirit attacking travelers on the road should be cleansed, while a spirit protecting its gravesite from vandals is in its right to do so. If excessive mining causes earthquakes, that’s a natural disaster that can and should be stopped. On the other hand, seasonal tsunamis along the coast are a natural part of life – instead of seeking to stop them, people should build elevated houses and grain silos and have evacuation plans in case of emergencies. Preta Samurai are basically part exorcist and part safety inspector.”

“The fifth Path – I promise, I’m almost done, these last two are quick! The fifth Path was the Human Path, it explores our relationship with humanity as a whole, particularly with those who are not in positions of power. Teaching, creating tools, and developing infrastructure to make life easier and happier for normal people. Human Samurai – well, all samurai are human samurai, but you know what I mean – Samurai who walk the Human Path, they’re teachers and doctors and inventors, mostly.”

“The last Path he explored was the Path of the Animal. It was all about the natural world – protecting habitats and ecosystems, encouraging responsible and sustainable mining and farming practices, hunting only for food rather than trophies. Knowing which animals are irresponsible to kill in a hunt, like females after birthing season or endangered species. Samurai who follow this path are kinda like forest rangers. They work to make sure humans don’t use up the world we’ve been given and leave nothing behind for our children.”

“So… Yeah! Those are the Six Paths that we study. When I’m done with my pilgrimage, I’ll have to choose one to follow. Sorry for the info dump, I had to recite each Path from memory every morning before I could eat breakfast, they’ve kinda seeped into my bones.”

Masao scrubbed a hand through his thick beard. “That’s pretty cool stuff. I’ll admit, it’s hard for me to imagine a life spent in high-minded pursuits like that. I’m a simple man – I cut down trees, I sell them, my family gets to keep eating.”

Hokusha laughed – “well, yeah, but the wood you cut gets used to keep people warm in the winter, and to create buildings and stuff! You actually _do_ something. The thing with us samurai is, we all just tell the rest of the world how to live their lives better. If the world was full of samurai we’d all be incredibly enlightened for like a week before we all starved to death.”

Min smiled at her. “Well, I for one am glad that you’re travelling the world, if only so that we could meet someone as interesting as you. And you introduced us to Fushi! When I meet the other moms for our sewing circle this Sunday I will have such a great story to tell them! So Hokusha, have you decided which Path you’ll choose?”

Hokusha scratched her head. She’d been avoiding this question for a long time, but her journey was more than half over, she needed to give it some serious thought. “I guess… I’m leaning toward Naraka or Human. I’ve seen a lot of suffering in the world over the past eighteen months, almost entirely caused by evil men who were willing to hurt others for their own gain. I’ve stood up to those men where I can, and it’s always felt like the right thing to do – so, maybe Naraka, life as a vigilante. But at the same time, someone needs to help the victims of those men to heal and rebuild – punishing their abusers won’t fix their lives, someone needs to actually help them with the harvesting and such until they’re back on their feet. So, Human? Maybe?”

“How exciting! Well, I’ll certainly keep an ear out for your accomplishments. Maybe someday I’ll hear tale of a samurai overthrowing an evil daimyo and say ‘why I know her! I fed her pickled ginger one time!’”

Hokusha laughed, “and I promise I’ll be talking about Min from the Land of Fire and the _amazing_ pickled ginger she fed me for years to come. Min, this food is so good! Speaking of which, does anyone mind if I grab some more pickled veggies?”

The conversation shifted to stories of her adventures, and before long the sun had set through the window and Min was shepherding the children off to bed while Masao helped Hokusha and Fushi get set up with futons and blankets. They fell asleep in front of the fireplace, their stomachs full of good food and their hearts full on good company.