The Distortion

He could recall many instances when he woke up to unpleasant sounds or nudges, namely whenever his mama was involved. But that morning, he experienced a new method which added a new flavor on top of the unpleasantness: disgust. Unfortunately, Laith didn’t find it in him to get angry.

“You know I love you buddy, but try not doing that again, at least not when I’m asleep…” Laith said sluggishly as he wiped the saliva off his face.

Râad was quite eager to wake him up as evidenced by the lick of the massive tongue, sparing Laith the effort of washing his face—probably what went through the tiger’s mind. The animal seemed very thrilled about his successful attempt, butting his furry head against Laith’s face all the while chuffing.

“Alright, you win. There you go, I’m up.”

Laith continued to wipe his face as some tiger hair was added to the mixture…as if his own drooling was not enough inconvenience to deal with. The newly applied bandages over his face were quite the hassle too. Laith had this constant itch to remove them when he knew better than to do that, especially around his left eye which was temporarily disabled. Every ounce of his body still ached, as if the shockwaves from the previous night were still reverberating throughout his bones and muscles.

The only remorse Laith could find was in no longer being complete dead load, he at least regained some degree of mobility—he was still wobbling. The only immobility that persisted was obviously his left arm; broken bones tended to take a bit longer to recover no matter how mighty you were. It did sting acutely as well, like a thousand needles stuck in his flesh. Laith had to bear with it though, his right arm had always been his major asset anyway.

Râad helped him stand to his feet, still not bothering with his own wounds—the tiger’s loyalty and devotion to his friend put Laith’s to shame. He looked around and saw his brother’s empty mattress. Laith figured he overslept, as per usual. Although unlike the countless other instances, this time he had a legitimate excuse for doing so. He couldn’t even remember when or how he got to the room. His slumber must have had more in common with fainting than actual sleeping. That was indeed what it looked like to those around him; they grew quite scared when he lost consciousness out of the blue.

Laith slid the “fusuma” open.

“Good morning, how are you feeling?”

“Oh, hey Yuuna,” Laith replied, guessing she too must have just woken up, “A little better, I can walk on my own now so that’s progress. You?”

“I still feel like someone is pummeling me, but I’ll manage.”

“Have you seen Adam?”

“No, I was just looking for him.”

The inside of the house was empty, neither Daisuke nor his wife were anywhere to be seen as well. Laith and Yuuna both grew slightly suspicious, but they were too tired to even speculate the reason of their absence, if they were absent at all. Besides, they would quickly come to find out the Tokugawas were indeed in the house. However, neither of them was prepared for what they were about to attend.

They finally spotted Adam standing tall at the door that led to the veranda, silently. His arms were folded and his attention was entirely drawn to whatever was taking place in the open space in front of him. Adam ignored the sound of footsteps behind him getting closer and closer, even the sound of the giant paws wouldn’t distract him.

“What’s up Ada…what the…”

They rested their knees on some sort of carpet, wearing white robes that were different from their common ones, clearly representing a type of ceremonial clothing. They both had short blades placed beside them, while their personal weapons—the katana and the bow—lay in front of them. Daisuke was in the process of writing something on a sheet of paper.

“Adam, what is going on here? Don’t tell me this is what I think it is…” Yuuna asked with a troubled voice.

“I’m afraid it’s exactly what you think it is.” Adam tried not to sound emotional.

“They’re up to no good, are they?” Laith had a vague idea about the upcoming practice, but he wasn’t fully acquainted with the details. Regardless, it was nothing to be thrilled about; Râad’s frantic behavior and the distressed moans he was making confirmed his speculation.

Adam pushed back his glasses. “This is the suicide ritual known as Seppuku or Harakiri. It can be performed for different reasons, sometimes as a way to escape death by the enemy’s hands, other times as a personal punishment for committing a grave offense or when bringing great shame to themselves and their clan. I suppose you can guess what the reason is in this case.”

Adam should have foreseen this outcome, Daisuke himself hinted at it during their conversation with Nakamura. There was simply a lot on his mind right then, and ever since he set foot in this country. In fact, their entire situation was quite reminiscent of a famous incident that occurred in these very lands before the Distortion. Perhaps history was indeed bound to repeat itself, so long as humans were the main actors. Not even the Distortion could change that reality apparently.

“I don’t suppose we can do anything to stop them now, can we?” Laith asked, aware of the futility of his question.

“It’s not a question of whether or not we can, it’s whether or not we should interrupt their ritual. We would be greatly dishonoring them if we interfered right now, they have already decided on doing so ever since they planned the raid.

“They knew they would be breaking the peace treaty and thus hostilities would resume once again and that is worthy of the capital punishment. As much as it pains me to say it, we have no say in this particular matter.” Adam explained, still keeping a cool head and a neutral tone.

“I don’t know if I would have acted the same way they did, if I would have gone to such lengths to take revenge, but they were wronged as well. Surely there can be a less severe punishment for them; they were good people and they deserve better.” Yuuna stated painfully.

“To them, this is better.” Adam replied.

“How? How is this a better option? I know it’s silly me of me to ask this, I know these are my people and I should understand them the best, but I just can’t understand why they would go this far…” she said, her voice a mix of frustration and sadness.

Adam didn’t answer immediately.

“It’s not easy to understand where they’re coming from. In our case, us three, we were born in a different time where we were upheld to completely different standards. We have a vastly different perspective from theirs, we just can’t judge them based on our own experience because they never shared it with us. Theirs are the only values they know of.

“Unlike us, they didn’t even go through a major shift in their lives after the Distortion that challenged their principles which remained largely the same. They never had to question much of their perception of the world and they probably wouldn’t do so either way, the current state of Mihad is proof of that. It is commonly agreed upon that the Distortion favored people like the Tokugawas.”

Yuuna’s tempest of emotions prevented her from fully processing Adam’s reasoning, and she probably wasn’t looking for a proper and convincing answer to her questions to begin with. On the contrary, a logical explanation hurt even more.

Daisuke continued his writing as his wife watched him silently.

“You knew about this, Adam?” Laith asked.

“Tokugawa san told me yesterday.”

“Just you? Why?”

“He wasn’t hiding it from you two specifically; you were just not in the best shape then. However, he was hiding it fr—” he was interrupted by the sound of the door busting open. “…him.” Adam finished.

He rushed to the veranda like a shadowy blur, bypassing the three individuals like they weren’t even there. He stopped before Daisuke, confronting him with a deadly look, a look he only showcased on specific occasions…never to his sensei. Daisuke finished writing before lifting his head and facing his disciple.

“Genjiro…”

“Sensei, lady Tokugawa, what is the meaning of this?”

No immediate reply was provided, the words were hard to muster.

“What, you thought I wouldn’t find out about this? Too bad the news of Akira’s bunch committing seppuku are already spreading and for some reason, I wasn’t aware of this collective decision. The only one left in the dark. Can I ask why? Am I not worthy enough to die as one of you?” Genjiro was fuming.

“You don’t understand, Genjiro…” Daisuke replied reservedly.

“Ah of course, it’s ‘stupid Genjiro’, how can he understand? Well guess what, I am stupid and I don’t understand, but you’re just as stupid if you think there is anything stopping me from performing the ritual myself. You didn’t think this through, did you?” Genjiro’s enraged voice resonated strongly in the surrounding silence.

“Genjiro san, we are not forcing you to do or not do anything, my husband just wanted to offer you a choice.” Yuka’s voice, as opposed to Genjiro’s, was soothing.

“Choice? What choice?”

“The choice to keep living, Genjiro.” Daisuke answered.

“Keep living?” Genjiro frowned. “Why me of all people? I was very much a part of it. When the war started, I fought by your side, when you decided to raid the damn castle, you asked for my help and I fought by your side, again. I never really thought about where your loyalty stood, I just knew I was loyal to you, because I was your disciple and you taught me everything I know. So why are you denying me the right to die by your side?” Genjiro’s loud voice and anger persisted.

“Because I could never bring myself to let you pay for my choices, not you. You have lived in a void box for nineteen years and had the misfortune to perish inside it. And when you miraculously got a second chance at life, most of what you experienced from it was its hideous side. There is much more to the world than what you had endured and as your master, I feel obliged to point you in the right direction.

“I sincerely believe that simply ending it now would be no less different than the last time you did it. While I cannot stop you from doing so if you wished, I ask that you to consider what I just told you, for your sake, not mine. I acted selfishly, but you don’t have to suffer the consequence of my actions. You owe yourself much more than that.”

Genjiro’s rage was slowly turning into sorrow.

“Don’t do this to me sensei, I’m a good-for-nothing who always leaned on you to guide me throughout everything. What am I supposed to do when you’re gone? I don’t understand the first thing about this ongoing conflict; like I said, I only followed your lead when I drew my sword. But I don’t know what’ll happen in the future, and I’m not sure if I’m able to make the right decisions on my own.” tears were swelling up in his eyes…a rare sight.

“You can’t rely on me forever; you have to grow to be your own person and walk on your own feet. You are no longer that helpless boy I found ten years ago; you are a grown man now. Act like it.” It sounded like Daisuke’s final order for his disciple. “Besides, I never said anything about discarding me.”

“What do you mean?”

“This note is meant for you. I am entrusting everything I have to you, my wealth, my heritage and even my name.”

A puzzled expression was drawn on Genjiro’s face.

“You see Genjiro san, to our great chagrin, I was never able to bear a child of my own, but it seems that the heavens blessed us with someone we would be most pleased to call our son.” Yuka said with a soft smile. “It would be rather fitting for someone who never had a name of his own.” She added.

Genjiro was at a loss for words, never in his life had he felt these many emotions all at once.

“Bear my name Genjiro, bear it with pride. Such is the legacy of the Tokugawa clan.” Daisuke stated solemnly.

“You know it would be my honor…but I’m afraid the Yamatojin will be hunting down that name going forward…and I don’t think I have what it takes to defend it…” Genjiro spoke between sniffs.

“You misunderstand me. I do not wish for this name to become another burden you have to carry; it is my hope that the Tokugawa memory would carry you instead. Do not treat it as a relic of the past, imprisoning you in a conflict that does not concern you. Let it be the mark of a new start, a choice that would lead you down a different path, a path of your own.”

“A path of my own…?”

“You are not the sharpest of men, but I believe you can figure this one out by yourself.” Daisuke’s smirk was a warm one.

Genjiro looked over his shoulder, throwing them a thoughtful glance as they watched silently. He didn’t know them very well, and neither did they, but the short time he spent with them made it clear that they were trustworthy individuals—the raiding samurais’ recognition was ample proof. Genjiro realized he was a heavy load to those around him, but he believed these people were reliable, he believed they could help him navigate this future journey, and most importantly, he believed in his master’s last and final judgment.

Genjiro turned to face his sensei again.

“Can I ask for one last favor?”

“Anything.”

“I know lady Tokugawa won’t need it in her case, but can I be your Kaishakunin? Will you let me help you carry out the ritual?” Genjiro requested, regretful, yet determined.

“It would be my pleasure, son.”

Genjiro drew his katana and stood to his master’s left—slightly behind him—then raised the blade with both hands and waited. Daisuke proceeded to open his kimono, unveiling his abdomen, and grabbed the short blade alongside his wife. She pointed hers towards the neck while he pointed his towards the belly.

Râad grew even more agitated, shifting anxiously all the while moaning. Laith made sure he wouldn’t step out of line.

It all happened in the blink of an eye.

Yuka cut off the arteries in her neck with one stroke. Daisuke plunged the blade in his guts as Genjiro simultaneously brought down his katana on his master’s nape, stopping half way through. He quickly withdrew the katana, shook the blood off the steel and snapped it back in his scabbard. Genjiro kneeled beside the body in silence, staring desolately at the ground, holding back the heavy current of tears flooding the inside of his eyes.

“Arigato, sensei, lady Tokugawa.”

Keeping her eyes shut—she didn’t have the stomach to watch—Yuuna grabbed Adam’s arm tightly, shedding her own tears. Her wish had finally come true, her desire to regain her emotions, to be able to feel for other people, something she had longed for ever since deserting the village. Yuuna forgot how painful compassion and empathy could be though…

The leaves froze in place, the grass rustled no more, the air itself became static. The place fell into mortifying stillness for a while, the recent death spreading to its surroundings. Râad’s groans and Yuuna’s weeping were the only signs of life, as if the residence had turned into a burial ground. Perhaps the only missing piece was a tribute to the deceased, and Laith took it upon him to deliver a eulogy of sorts.

“You’re right Adam, it’s hard to understand where they’re coming from, we probably never could. But I believe judging their actions is beside the point, however ‘absurd’ they may seem. In the end, these people stand for something, and they would never back away from it, no matter the cost. Regardless of whether I agree with them or not, their resolve is something I can’t help but respect.”

Neither Yuuna nor Adam responded. One was simply was too devastated to give it a thought while the other deemed his brother’s statement befitting of last words.

It wasn’t long before Genjiro stood up to bow one last time to the couple lying down on the ground before murmuring “Sayonara”. He then walked towards the individuals who were watching from a distance with heavy steps.

“I want to ask you guys something…would you mind if I join you?” he said, unable look them in the eyes.

Yuuna threw herself at him immediately, hugging him with what little strength she could muster, completely disregarding the injuries she still suffered from.

“I was going to suggest it to you after the raid, but Tokugawa san wanted you to make that choice.” Adam said agreeably. “I’m glad you did.”

Genjiro had misjudged the brothers. He thought of them as everyone else who ignorantly made fun of his quirky nature, but all they did was treat him as the man he was expected to be. If anything, he was the one betraying everyone’s expectations.

“Thank you so much.” Genjiro bowed.

“Raise your head Gen san, you’re one of us now.” Laith’s mouth curved into a wide grin.

Râad unleashed a mighty roar, a roar that somehow felt like a culmination of all the events witnessed and the moments shared, a culmination of the recently lost souls and the newly forged bonds, a culmination of a journey that came to an end…the first of many more to come.

End of Tale: Land of The Rising Sun