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The sun beat down against his back. His hand had paused midair, hovering above a plump, ripe tomato, not unlike the others in the basket he held in his other arm. The wind sent a gentle breeze; the leaves of the plants around him shuddered as a result. He blinked.
“Heishishourinken?”
In an effort to cover up the momentary pause even he himself could not explain, the tsurugi plucked the tomato hastily, coughing exactly once. He tossed it, a practiced motion, into the basket with the others. Heishishourinken readjusted his posture and moved to pluck another tomato. But perhaps he was a tad too quick, his heart thrumming in both of his ears incessantly: The tomato pulled from the vine haphazardly, coming apart at the point where the stem meets flesh. In an instant, the tomato was ruined. Its juice and innards spilled over his hand, slipped through his fingers, and dripped onto the ground. He stared.
“How long
will my heart among the fields
go a-wandering?”
Smooth hands, somewhat cool to the touch, covered his own with a handkerchief. The hands wiped away the tomato gore mess and deftly refolded the handkerchief, storing it away once more. Heishishourinken raised his eyes, finally, meeting golden ones—golden eyes against black, much like a light in the frigid darkness or, perhaps, a thread dangling down into hell. He swallowed.
Kokindenjunotachi smiled. He clasped Heishishourinken’s hands again, taking a half step closer, but not too close. “Tell me what’s on your mind, Heishishourinken.”
The tsurugi stuttered, tripping over his words. A light heat rose to his cheeks in embarrassment. “Nothing is, no, no, I’m—I’m fine. Nothing is on my mind.” He looked down at the mess on the ground. “… sorry, I ruined that one. Ahh, it was a good one, too.”
Letting go of the other’s hands, Kokindenjunotachi picked up his own basket, which had been set off to the side. A dozen or so cucumbers shared the space with almost as many eggplants. “It’s one of many,” he replied softly. “The harvest was rather bountiful, so a few losses are expected and accounted for.”
A few losses? A sigh crossed Heishishourinken’s lips. He placed his free hand on his hip, decided against that, then reached down for another tomato, successfully pulling this one off the vine. “Right, but still. We should endeavor to take care of the vegetables, even after we reap them. If we thoughtlessly carry on, distracted, then we’ll have no food at all, none with which to heal the soul, and—”
“So you admit you were distracted?” teased Kokindenjunotachi. “By something, perhaps, on your mind?” Despite the lilt of his tone and the curl of his lips, the way he looked at Heishishourinken was earnest and concerned.
So, really, all Heishishourinken could do was sigh again. He stared down at the red fruit in his hand as he spoke, mostly to avoid that gaze. “I suppose there is,” he admitted, pronouncing each syllable slowly. “The last sortie I was on, a few days ago—the desires of the people from that time still clamor for attention in my mind. The starvation and strife that results from war affects them all, but…”
He paused. Kokindenjunotachi waited patiently.
“… We had split up, on that sortie. And during that time when I was away from my more level-headed comrades, I came across a group of children, completely and utterly famished. I was astonished they still lived, even, but the desire humans have to simply live is quite strong, ever since times yet older than me. And these children, they came over to me and said, ‘Mister, do you have any rice?’ and they kept asking, each of them, one by one, over and over.”
Kokindenjunotachi, while Heishishourinken was caught up in explaining this event, set his own basket down, took the tsurugi’s from him to set it down, too, then sat down on the ground next to the basket, shaded from the sun by the vines. He pulled Heishishourinken to sit, too, which he did after some brief consideration.
“Well?” said Kokindenjunotachi. His voice seemed to disappear on the breeze, his eyes piercing the shadows.
Heishishourinken laughed. “I told them no. I told them I didn’t have any. I told them that I was sorry. But I remembered the location of the shack they huddled in, which I had met them outside of. Against my instincts, after making sure no one had seen me, when night had fallen, I stuffed a few small packs of my team’s stores into my sleeves, along with a single pepper, and returned to that location … only to find that they had all disappeared. Not one remained.”
Of course, Kokindenjunotachi knew the rest of the story, and Heishishourinken knew that he knew, so he didn't offer up the rest, falling into an odd silence.
Kasen had been on that sortie, so the tachi had heard no shortage of complaints and whining upon the team’s return. That idiot, thinking he’s special enough to wander around at night! He drew the HRA right to him, and he was all alone! was the foremost complaint. The story Heishishourinken had given to Kasen didn't mention the children or the rice and the pepper but said that he had gone to take a walk to calm his mind. The HRA had given him the jump, though: A kunai right through his leg, and suddenly he was surrounded. His vines could only do so much, and were it not for the omamori given by their master and Kasen’s need to check on everyone before bed, he and Kokindenjunotachi wouldn’t be having much of a conversation right now at all.
For some time, the pair sat in silence. The vines and foliage swayed around them. Kokindenjunotachi, wordlessly, moved from sitting across from the other to sitting next to him. He pressed their shoulders together and wrapped an arm around Heishishourinken’s.
The mild heat returned to Heishishourinken’s cheeks, dipping down to his neck. He cleared his throat as if he were preparing to finally break the silence, but he found he had no words at all. What could he even say?
So Kokindenjunotachi spoke instead. “I have seen firsthand how the desires of the people can influence our own desires, and the consequences of falling for that influence. Kasen Kanesada insists we are but tools, that we have no desires of our own. He lies to himself. Most of us do.”
“Then…”
“Ah, yes, you are not the first to sneak away at the behest of a human you know you cannot save.”
Heishishourinken was silent.
Kokindenjunotachi turned his head to look up at him and laughed quietly. “Did you think you were? Hm, hm, perhaps it really is Shichiseiken that reflects the Prince after all…”
“Wh-What’s that supposed to mean…?!”
Kokindenjunotachi did not offer an answer. Instead he smiled again, placed a hand on Heishishourinken’s cheek, and shook his head, amused.
A light gust of wind ruffled the leaves of the vines and stole away his words. Heishishourinken shuddered.
Elsewhere in the citadel, Jizou Yukihira sneezed three times, nearly losing his balance from the intensity of each one. He gripped the handle of the broom fiercely, as if his life depended on it. Sengo Muramasa, holding a similar broom at the other end of the hall, looked up.
“Oh my. It seems like someone is talking about you.”
Jizou sighed, his fingers massaging his forehead. “Kokin must be slacking off again…”