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Out of all the villages they’d visited so far, Shion liked Iwdoyama the most.
After helping the village chief negotiate a trade deal with the nearby rival village of Tsgashiizu, Shion and Nurugai were welcomed into Iwdoyama with open arms. The villagers were extremely friendly, feeding them with local specialties made with the village's crops, free of charge. Most of the boys were prim and proper, not so much as batting an eye at Nurugai, much to her dismay but to Shion’s pleasure. And if that wasn’t enough to satisfy him, the sunny weather and clear skies were certainly the village’s selling point.
Nurugai had even become friends with the village chief’s daughter, who showed her around the village every day. The girls were currently running through the rice paddy fields, muddy water and rays of sunlight splashing on their skin. Shion stood nearby on a local road atop a small hill, breathing in the fresh, warm air. It wouldn’t hurt to stay behind in the village for a few days longer.
Shion’s peaceful basking in the sunlight came to a pause when he sensed a familiar, yet distant presence behind him, and he immediately placed a hand on the hilt of his sword, brushing aside the folds of his haori.
“Shugen.” He answered the presence with a terse voice, his hand tightening around the blade.
Shugen chuckled. “Hello, Shion sensei.” He greeted, “I’m glad you’re doing well. I’m surprised to see that your senses are as sharp as ever.”
Shion paused, allowing himself to absorb the other man’s aura. He detected no hostility from the latter, but knowing Shugen’s extreme loyalty to the Yamada Asaemon clan, he could never be too sure. He allowed the grip on his sword to loosen up, but he remained wary. “I may have defected from the clan, but that doesn’t mean my abilities as a swordsman have diminished.” Shion mused.
“Apologies for the misunderstanding, sensei.”
“There’s no need for that. And you needn’t call me sensei anymore.”
“Perhaps you’re no longer an Asaemon, but my respect for your swordsmanship remains. Besides, you are my elder — as such, I could never show disrespect towards you.” Shugen persisted.
Shion sighed in defeat. “Alright.” He rubbed his forehead, “It’s hard to believe this encounter was a mere coincidence, and I imagine you didn’t travel to such great lengths to find me without reason. If you need something, please do tell. Or if it’s a fight you’re looking for, I —”
“I’m not here to fight you, sensei, nor am I here to take your prisoner away.” Shion refrained from correcting him that Nurugai was no longer a prisoner, ultimately deciding against it. “You left the clan a long time ago, and if I wanted to fight you, I would’ve approached you by now. I was simply passing by in the area with a few of the other clan members when I heard word of your presence nearby. I’d been meaning to give you something, so I finally took the chance.”
The blind man quirked an eyebrow in response. He couldn’t possibly imagine what the Asaemon, let alone Shugen, would need to give him.
An object was pressed into his hands, and, at first, Shion didn’t know what it was. He initially felt a long, cloth-like ribbon, riddled with holes and ripped fabric. His thumb brushed against a metal plate, rubbing against scratches and rust, even encountering a large dent on the plate. The smell of metallic blood was faint, and that’s when it all clicked.
“Oh.” Shion murmured in a quiet voice.
“It protected me, against my fight with the Lord Tensen, hence the dent.” Shugen broke the awkward, solemn silence. “I couldn’t bring myself to bury it, so I wanted to give it to you.”
Unable to keep himself from asking, Shion blurted, “You could’ve kept it.” He immediately regretted the moment the words left his mouth, his hands tightening around the object protectively, as if Shugen would try to take it away.
He heard a small, affectionate huff from the ravenette instead. “I could’ve.” He agreed. “Tenza was dear to me as well — Despite our initial misgivings, I considered him a brother, a best friend.” Just hearing his late student’s name being spoken out loud was enough to make Shion flinch.
“But,” Shugen continued, “You loved him.” And in a voice more softly, he added, “He was your family.” It wasn’t a question — there was no semblance of doubt within the younger’s voice, and it was as if he had believed that thought for his entire life.
After all, Tenza was the first person that Shion could confidently call his family. He had only ever known his mother as a kid, and decades later, his memories of her were nothing more than fragmented pieces. He cherished his time with the Yamada Asaemon Clan, but the hidden truth behind his blindness had always served as a barrier for his complete integration with the clan.
Meanwhile, Tenza, with his easily irritable, stubborn, and straightforward personality somehow wormed his way into Shion’s heart. He was everything Shion wasn’t — honest and prideful about his background. And when the kid who was slowly shifting his world’s perspective looked at him with a smile that rivaled the sun’s, as he gushed about how amazing his sensei was, for the first time in years, Shion felt alive.
It was Shion who found Tenza in a backwater village, dirt poor and with no property to his name. It was Shion who convinced the Asaemon clan to take Tenza in. It was Shion who spent hours with Tenza after the dojos closed, teaching him how to wield his bokken. It was Shion who first pressed a real, newly forged blade into the hands of an ecstatic Tenza. It was Shion who, after Tenza’s first execution, spent hours consoling him throughout the night with warm hugs and awful jokes.
But after everything, it was Tenza who had given his life so that Shion could live his.
“I did,” Shion responded quietly, after realizing he’d spent too much time alone with his thoughts, and he squeezed the headband tightly in his grip. “He was — is — my family.”
Another silence settled between the two men, before Shugen spoke up again. “Forgive me if I’m overstepping any boundaries, Sensei, but — are you happy?”
Shion froze, nearly recoiling at the younger’s question. Was he happy? The mere thought of it hadn’t dwelled on him since before he and his former fellow Asaemon descended with the convicted prisoners onto Shinsenkyo.
He tilted his head back to the rice paddy fields, listening to Nurugai’s giggles drifting through the air, and feeling the warm rays of sunlight hitting his skin.
That’s right. He had Nurugai with him now. Someday, Shion knew that they would find her people, but he’d cross that bridge when they got to it. Besides, defecting from the Asaemon clan had removed a huge burden from his shoulders. Traveling from village to village and enjoying rural life while helping others had brought great peace to his soul.
The Yamada Asaemon were often taught that the truth was reflected in the blade. And when Nurugai had hugged him, pleading for him to abandon the plan to kill Zhu Jin, for a moment, Shion could see that truth — the one where Tenza stood behind them, a hand on Nurugai’s shoulder, and the hints of a smile on his face.
Even on the verge of death, Tenza had been happy. Tenza wanted them to live. And that’s exactly what Shion intended to do.
“Yes. I’m happy.” Shion responded, with unwavering resolve, turning back to face the younger. He cradled the fragile headband in his hands before smiling, overwhelmed with gratitude. “Thank you, Shugen.”
Shugen smiled in response, but before he could reply, the pitter patter of light footsteps approached Shion from behind.
“Sensei? What’re you doing, talking to an Asaemon?” Nurugai asked with curiosity, but the underlying fear present in her voice didn’t go unnoticed.
“Well,” Shugen hummed, “That’s my cue to leave. It was good seeing you again, Shion sensei. Take care.”
“You too.” Shion waved, the silent, respectful farewell exchanged between them without words. He watched as Shugen walked away, his fading silhouette becoming a black dot in the distant horizon, and Nurugai’s attention quickly shifted from the Asaemon to the headband in Shion’s hand.
“What’s that?” Nurugai asked, leaning in for a better view, before Shion tucked the headband away beneath his haori, and ruffled her hair.
A new chapter of their lives had begun, one without bloodshed and needless violence. There was no need to reopen old wounds when they were just starting to heal. In his dying moments, Tenza had wished for nothing but life and happiness for them both, and Shion was determined to see his wish through. His legacy would forever be engraved in their hearts.
Besides, Nurugai was a smart kid. Shion had no doubt that she’d figure it out sooner or later.
“A memory.” Shion responded with a smile, as they turned towards the setting sun and a hopeful future.