Work Text:
Kazumi pours sake in a cup for one of his customers as he stands near the wooden bench, his smile never ending. It's late at night. Moonlight is sealed behind grey clouds, almost peeking through with unusual shyness. It sits well with the cold breeze playing with Kazumi's greenish jacket, nearly threatening to have some of his hair strings on his face. It doesn't bother him whatsoever, but it makes him excited to feel more of the air brushing against his cheeks, painting it flush from sincere joy.
The man who's sipping the sake in silence doesn't seem to mind the breeze either. He just stands alone, back straightened, and left hand on his waist. He's an eloquent man unlike many from his class-- Not that Kazumi would shame someone for not learning properly; he could never blame a merchant's son or daughter for lacking education in these trying times. He barely remembers a time where justice and fairness were a thing that people preached. In these trying times, Kazumi only hopes that he could provide enough to pay his employees their daily wages.
Life is hard in a land where the sun shines on first. Ironic in some way, a land like these should be rich with enlightenment, alas it isn't the case at all. No one cares if you're a merchant, craftsman, or a farmer; as long as you can give to the noble and rich, you're an item that they could discard for a better tool. It sours the taste of Kazumi Mishima's best sake thinking about such depressing topics of the world today, but it cannot be helped. He thrives in hearing people talk about the old and the new-- and he lived long enough to know that the new is more tolerable than the old days. War is a thing that he doesn't wish for its return on this land, no matter how desperately the change is desperately needed for the land's growth.
It isn't the time, yet.
Kazumi nods to the departing customer with a disappearing smile.
Nothing is worth living in the sun of this country isn't what the sun should be. The Shogun is... a demon, to say the least without being hunted by dogs. No rays of sun could burn as much as the Shogun's orders to seize a whole domain and their Daimyo, leaving a large number of samurais without their master, simply a Ronin. A nameless blade with no regard for people's lives. A beast without a leash to tie it down. That's what a Ronin is in Kazumi's eyes; monsters who sharpen their blades at people instead of protecting them. No one should ever let murderers without their restraints; that's what Daimyos do for family slaughters like samurais. They keep them in so they won't turn into beasts, as long as they obey their master; everything should be fine.
It's never good when Shoguns show themselves as these powerful beings, either.
It makes Kazumi sick– it's never good news when a Daimyo is imprisoned; their people will likely follow whatever punishment the Shogun inflects on their master or form a suicidal mission to cause pain due to the Shogun's rash decision... Kazumi pours sake to himself, deep in thought.
Oh, this Shogun isn't as kind and gentle as the sun rays should be, every commoner and samurai know this; even Daimyos who tried their hardest to be beside the Shogun know that the moment he gets bored, guts will be ripped open without any important reason... much so like the Daimyo of Tazuna. Never in a million-year Kazumi would've seen this coming from miles away; not when he foresaw an assassination attempt on the Shogun from a different domain altogether.
Since the wind whispers of such tales, Kazumi's ears aren't deaf to such interesting hearsays in his humble saloon. It's one of the joys of owning a saloon in a large city like the one he's living in, especially in a busy street like the one where his shop is located. It always brings the liveliest of customers who never hold back on their gossip. It entertains Kazumi as much as he doesn't believe the majority of it.
'Rumours are a fireless smoke, it suffocates people who don't know which fire is producing the smoke, ending in a disaster that could've been avoided with a bit of logical thinking.'
That's what Kazumi's late chief hammered down as he was growing up.
‘Keep your ears sharp, your eyes open, and your mouth full of honeyed words.’
He's living with those words even if he hears the wooshes of a bamboo stick alongside them. It makes his body shivers with each sip he takes.
Bad reminders, he shouldn't be focusing on those– like they aren't engraved on his mind. Kazumi glances at the street, it's nearly empty. It wasn't as busy of a day as Kazumi hoped for. He sighs, taking one last look for any potential customers before he turns his back, disappointment sculpted on his face. He puts the curtains on, humming a song his workers repeatedly sang over this week. The memory brings another genuine grin to his face, he loves the people working in his saloon. They're springing life in a small wooden place like his, making it lively in a way it hasn't been in ages. He's so grateful for their kindness towards a man like him. He could never forget the day that they overworked themselves because Kazumi had been sick with a serious flu. It almost killed him, that one time. His workers saved his life.
They're his life.
One last sweep, he puts the sake cup next to the carafe. Kazumi looks at the carafes he got, counting them with growing anxiety. He hasn't bought enough carafes required for the daily consumption of sake; the wages aren't enough with the rising taxes– and those random Ronins who keep demanding money from him, or he will face hell. The merchant can fight them with ease; however, he could never cause his workers any harm due to his negligence. He could never do that.
He might have to sell some of his other lands for this week's wage, how dreadful. The Shogun might as well cut everyone's wrists with these hellish taxes he enforced on people-- Abrupt creaks of Geta sandals have Kazumi turn around with intense speed, eyes narrowed on the looming, tall silhouette on his curtains.
Who dares to sneak up on him without making that much sound?
Nervously, Kazumi draws the curtains to the side, lowering his head in case the shadowy figure was a noble or used to be perhaps? He's unusually tall-- can be easily called a giant with his composing height.
The choice of clothes states otherwise, though; the half-cut straw cape and the grey fur over the armoured attire. This man is a Ronin who covers his identity with a black straw hat and a demon tiger mask. Everything the man has ranges from orange to black, with shades that makes the merchant think of how valued this man was in the past. By perchance nobles, even the three swords and two bows scream of how important this man was.
Maybe this man was a hunter for some of the wildest nobility. Usually, they wear animal furs they hunt on them. Their long bow's whistles kill the quiet in nature the way their presence kills peace in the city's streets.
Maybe... he was both...?
Was is the key point here. For now, the ronin's concealed eyes are on Kazumi, watching his every move carefully like an injured predator, waiting for Kazumi to slip before he cuts him down with one of his 3 fangs.
What brings a man like this to a saloon such as Kazumi's?
It erupts all kinds of questions with no real answers. Yet this isn't the important thing here, Kazumi needs to serve this client to his best interests.
"How can I help you, Mister Ronin?" Kazumi claps his hands, the shallow business smile shining in the night instead of the hidden moon. "Mayhaps you require sake to quench the thirst of a long trip! Mine is made for these purposes; you see!"
The man never lifts his head up enough for Kazumi to see the demon tiger mask clearly, yet he has a way of making the merchant shiver under his unknown stare.
"...Mister Ronin?" The man has a quiet, deep voice. It doesn't ring with positive emotions; it has chills that only travel with the winter's winds.
"Or is it Mister Hunter?" Kazumi keeps his tone light as he takes one of his largest cups and carafes. The man looks like he needs as much alcohol as he can get, and Kazumi won't say no for a man's needs.
"Keiji. Call me by my name." The easiness in Kazumi's tone must've slid some of the edginess in the Ro- Keiji's tone. He's calmer, even in his observation– more than the merchant thinks the man's capable of.
"Mister Keiji! That's a unique name! You need to treasure it, sir," Kazumi hums, opening the carafe. "Would you like some snacks? I have some Tsukemono and Sashimi."
Keiji shakes his head. "Only sake."
The sparkling flow of sake captures Kazumi for a few seconds. He stops pouring and puts the carafe on the bench, perceiving the client's quiet attitude. He shouldn't watch a Ronin like Keiji, a man who cast away his surname with his master's departure. Kazumi knows better than to notice the dry blood clinging into Keiji's jacket and kimono. This man murdered something or someone. The more Kazumi looks at Keiji's attire, the surer he is.
This man killed another in less than several hours, and here is Kazumi, serving him a drink. Oh, what kind of karma did Kazumi do for him to have such a dangerous man show up near his shop? It freezes his blood how nonchalant Keiji seems with dark blood on his gauntlets. Amusing how easy it is to end lives for these ex-samurais.
"Ahhh~" Keiji sighs in relief once he puts his cup on the bench, happiness leaking. "Your sake's somethin'-! uhhh...?" The hanging mask on his neck allows for Keiji's mouth to be seen, a questioning grin's pestering there.
"Kazumi, sir. I'm always proud of my alcohol. I store the fanciest for the lowest of people."
Oh well, Kazumi didn't mean to call Keiji the lowest of the people, but in his eyes? He is.
"...Wahahaha! You're brave, Kazumi!" Keiji hits the bench with his palm, laughter echoing in the night. "No man said something like that to me before. Kinda refreshin'."
"Refreshing? Mwahaha~ That's humorous!" Kazumi pours another for Keiji. He nods before sipping.
"Yeah," Keiji holds the cup, the smile can be heard in his tone. "I usually kill whoever opposes me~ just who can fight me fairly, though. 's the least anyone can do to 'em before they die with one stab."
"That's an act of mercy," Kazumi mutters. "You let them die with dignity-- as a samurai would die. That's an act of mercy towards unkind souls."
The sudden halt in Keiji's movement sends all kinds of signals to Kazumi. He said too much to a man who was just killed. Too much can get him killed next. The moment Keiji presumed his drinking is when Kazumi exhales withheld air in his lungs. This moment happens fast, so he doesn't waste a second to take another shaky breath. Gods, Kazumi doesn't want to draw his sword after he vowed to never draw one. Not now, not ever. He won't have to as long as Keiji doesn't show aggression towards him.
A long time ago, Kazumi abandoned his family name in pursuit of true euphoria, a life without bloodshed. He soaked his hands in a path full of thirst over power, he no longer wishes for that untasteful greed. The merchant has had a good eye since then, and he can see that Keiji isn't greedy or hungry for power. Why would he kill someone? Kazumi's eyes never fail him.
Maybe this is the most life-threatening thing he will do. It's just a hunch, but it's stronger than any fact he could bring up to light.
"How did your revenge go? Have you satisfied your demons?"
Keiji sips one last time before he puts the cup on the surface. He fixes the mask, tilting his head.
"Can see them every way I go. I've satisfied my demons but shadows of the past're haunting me, y'see. Lotsa self-blamin' for my negligence. I shoulda seen that one coming." His voice is full of something that Kazumi can't grasp. Is it remorse? Agony? A mixture of the two? He doesn't know.
"Revenge never solved anything. It makes things more complicated than a string of knots. It strangles you along with the bodies you leave behind."
"Y'know your words, Kazumi. Wonder what made you wiser than any man I know," Keiji muses.
"I'm just a merchant. I know nothing of this wisdom you claim," Kazumi teases, edge building up in the end of that sentence.
"Not tellin' me the truth, huh~?" Keiji mumbles, hooking his thumbs on hakama. "Not like I'm tellin' ya any."
"Mhmm...we're hiding truths! How dreadful."
"Ooo yeah, we sure are." Keiji backs away, placing a few golden coins on the counter. "Your sake was tasty but...I needed peace. Couldn't find it here."
Kazumi nods, gathering the coins and putting him in his pocket. "I apologise for being annoying you, Keiji-"
"No, no~ Don't be sorry. It's my fault, not yours." Keiji waves, walking away. "I tend to let them talk louder than other people. See ya one day, Kazumi."
"Have a nice evening, Mister!" Kazumi shouts, closing the curtains.
Keiji sure loves to lie a lot. For someone who claims he's a sinner, lying isn't one of his best. Between the untruths, there is one truth that tells Kazumi something; Keiji is coming back soon.
It's just a matter of time.
To say the night brings out the bizarre is just an understatement; Kazumi can attest to more than just the bizarre; he can testify that he danced with the devil multiple times over several cups of sake. The devil wears his mask quite well till he decides to drop the façade off his face, doesn't mean that he completely shows everything; he just shows a part of his visage, the upper half is hidden from all curious eyes.
Not even Kazumi has seen glimpses to what Keiji's colourful eyes might look like-- he hopes it's shaded yellow or amber akin to a tiger's. He knows Keiji's hair is darker than coal. Kazumi took a glance at it while Keiji was wrapping the ties for his mask. It fascinates the merchant how casual the Ronin is becoming around him. It doesn't make Kazumi less weary of what the man does in his free time.
The merchant guessed two odd jobs Keiji may participate in as masterless samurai: one, a mercenary, (That didn't seem like the case at all. Keiji doesn't seem like the type to be ordered around.) and second (that makes Kazumi terrified), an assassin. This job, as much as Kazumi wants to roll off, is the most suited job for Keiji.
Of course, to each question, there must be a reply to these inquiries; Kazumi is delighted to answer all of them.
First of these questions, what made Kazumi so sure of Keiji's involvements in such work as being an assassin? The unexplainable murders in the past month didn't go unnoticed to Kazumi. He watched the news closely and didn't leave any murder ignored. It's far too coincidental to write it off as a cruel poke from fate. Next one, isn't it just a gut feeling? That's the thing, Kazumi's gut is never wrong. It can sense people of his kind easily; the kind that wants to be redeemed but chose the road to damnation instead of salvation. Third, did Kazumi continue to Keiji despite his suspensions? Yes, obviously. Kazumi could never throw a customer out; everyone is welcomed here. Unless someone looks for trouble, the merchant will serve sake till the sunset.
There are wonders to Kazumi, he doesn't forget the times his favourite clients show up weekly which means he never forgot how many times Keiji came by in the past month: three times.
Three whole times that mystified Keiji more than demystified the man. Kazumi's curiosity grew when he drew the connection between Daimyo of Tazuna and Keiji's ventures; perhaps it was more obvious than it should be. Keiji held swords with crossed family signs, he never wanted to show which family he belonged to. He came to the city around the time the news of Daimyo's arrest travelled to Kazumi's ears. It's wild how life can be a small place.
Unlike how boring the job is for Kazumi, he empties the fifth carafe, closes its lid, and replaces it with a full one. The day should be buzzing with people coming to ask for some sake and snacks, but no one dares to get out of the street; the murderers did a number on the samurais who loved to gather near his shop. It's tranquil now, the cicada's chorus is making him relax even more. It's a quiet day for--
He really should stop jinxing it, shouldn't he? There's a client who entered the saloon. Usually, one of his lovely workers would rush to take them to a table and ask them for their order. It's unusual that no one's doing that... Now he knows why. It's Keiji-- Bloody Keiji. Gods, what happened? Kazumi rushes to Keiji's side, searching for any sign of injury. The blood isn't from him.
Did he..?
"Keiji?! Did you *murder* someone?!" Kazumi can't keep his voice from shaking. It's too much, coming like this to the shop in front of his employees.
Keiji removes the straw hat for the first time ever, the mask is broken in half-- Oh, Kazumi didn't see Keiji's face before. He isn't sure what to feel when the man is drenched of a blood that isn't his.
"I missed you," Keii mutters out of the blue, shaking Kazumi's heart. "Didn't know I needed to see ya till I walked by. Couldn't pass up the chance to say hi."
"...You could've met me any other time, Keiji. Why now?" Kazumi's angry, but he's holding his feelings back. There's no point in rushing. He can hear the shouts of many people outside.
"Couldn't do that. The city's gonna be locked in a few minutes," Keiji confesses, trailing his fingers through his hair. "I might've killed the Shogun."
Kazumi's eyes snap. "WHAT?!"
"I avenged him. I did what I had to do to my master," Keiji laughs bitterly. "I didn't need anythin' else. I just wanted revenge so badly."
Kazumi covers his face for a bit. "Do you f-feel better? D-do you feel like it's e-easier to breathe?"
"...No. I'm s-scared." Keiji turns his head, looking at the commotion behind him. "I'm thinking I'm losing more than I'm winnin'."
"You're losing. You've been losing to your thoughts ever since you followed the path of revenge. You master never wished for any of this, you needn't to do all of this. You doomed yourself and the rest of your family to–"
"Got none, Kazumi. That's why– I got none."
"...You truly are unfortunate. I wish I could help you."
"Tell me, " Keiji looks back at Kazumi, eyes shining with tears. "Did you miss me?"
Kazumi nods, rubbing his eyes. "I could never lie about the truth, Keiji. I did. I missed you. I wish you didn't do what you did. I'd have loved to talk with you more."
The shouts are growing loud in the distance; the sounds of horns and drums are echoing through the city.
"It's time. They're gonna find me here," Keiji takes his weapons out one by one. "I did what I had to do. Don't wanna fight them."
Kazumi nods again, his vision blurring for a bit. He hears a faint I'll see you one day before Keiji storms out of the saloon. This day is truly wonderfully peaceful, isn't it? Kazumi curses the Shogun for the last time before he shuts the shops, watching the running soldiers investigate everyone they lay eyes on. Gods, if you know mercy, let the man escape by some miracle. The Shogun is at fault for this, the land's sun is corrupt since the day he rose to the sky. The clouds never were strong enough to block the shogun's cruelty. Now this has happened, and Kazumi curses the Shogun again.
The sun isn't merciful today as usual.