kscans

Chapter 39 - Karmic Retribution

"This is troublesome, however."

"What is?"

"If Soma has no chance of winning..." The smile completely vanished from the Emperor's face as he grumbled. Miyake and Nanafushi looked at him, tilting their heads.

"I thought you were aware of that."

"No, I was not."

"But didn't you say as much to Lord Soma?"

"That was obviously to provoke him."

"What?! B-but! The fact that he cut down five hundred soldiers is true, isn't it?" It was Soma who cried out in surprise. He knew he had been provoked, but he hadn't thought the claim that he had no chance of winning was a bluff.

"Ah, well, that's true."

"Then as I thought—"

"No, that kind of result is possible if the soldiers are careless or hold back."

"Are you sure?"

"I am. In any case, we need to rethink our strategy." At those words, Miyake frowned.

"Do you wish to claim a victory from Lord Shintaro?"

"No, that's not it. It would be best if we could, but it's fine if we can't. The problem is that besides Shion, there is nothing here that captivates him."

"...Pardon?"

"We need to drive a stake into his heart—something that will seize his soul and not let go, something that shows him there is an inescapable destiny here."

Miyake grimaced. "Meaning?"

The Emperor clicked his tongue at Miyake's slow uptake. "Don't you get it? There is nothing more difficult to handle than a person without desires. So I intend to stir up the bare minimum desires he must have. By doing so, I will make it clear to him where his sword can truly come alive. Then, he should be able to sever his old ties." Miyake was stunned. In short, the Emperor's plan was to manipulate Shintaro into wanting to be in Kyo of his own accord. Seeing that Miyake had finally understood, the Emperor sighed.

"For that, we need a swordsman who can fight on equal terms. Especially a swordsman who has made a name for himself in the East." The Emperor's gaze fell on Soma, who straightened his back and held his breath. He was frozen by the premonition that he was about to be told something of great importance.

"We needed a successor for the Imperial Court Chief. But you have an even more important role than that, Soma."

"Y-yes, sir."

"You must make him understand that as long as he seeks to master the sword, he cannot leave this city of Kyo. The next Emperor will be none other than him. If we fail, this nation will eventually fall." Soma turned pale. It was an incredibly heavy responsibility.

"But, isn't he extremely strong?" The Emperor couldn't answer immediately and looked at Miyake.

"Well?"

Miyake grunted. "Hmm. The match might be decided after about fifty exchanges. If you want to prolong it beyond that, you'll have to have Lord Shintaro hold back."

"Is he that strong? I mean, I understand he's strong enough to be called an instance of Divine Possession... but is he that strong?"

"Overwhelmingly so. I do not believe Lord Soma could win even if he became a demon." The Emperor was finally speechless. The bluff he had made—"if there is a swordsman stronger than my son-in-law, they would no longer be human"—had turned out to be the truth. The shock was beyond words. At that point, Razan spoke up.

"What about the story of him jumping from the top of the Tower?" Razan still didn't grasp who Shintaro was. After all, he had only caught a glimpse of him when he first saw Mana from inside his palanquin. He remembered nothing beyond the impression that he had a handsome face.

"Is that true?" His gaze was on Nanafushi, who redirected it to Sahei.

"It's true, isn't it?" Sahei's eyes darted around.

"Well..."

"From the very top roof?" Razan shifted his gaze to Sahei as well.

"He must have had some kind of safety rope, right?" Sahei glanced at Razan. For the first time, a feeling he had vaguely sensed was put into words. The assumption on the part of those who heard the story of the jump from the Tower was that a "safety rope" was involved. But even a fall from half that height would be fatal. No matter what skills one used, serious injury would be unavoidable. Who would believe someone who said, "He jumped with nothing but his own body"...? Sahei agonized over it. However, it wasn't something that had to be clarified at all costs. The reason everyone was so shocked, even while assuming a safety rope was used, was because the Tower was just that high, and jumping from it required extraordinary courage. So, Sahei consulted with Sanetsugu in a low voice.

"Should I tell the truth?" Sanetsugu made a face of distaste and cleared his throat once. Then he made a suggestion to the Emperor.

"How about this? We could prepare something like a ladder as tall as the Tower and have him jump from the top of it... They say a picture is worth a thousand words."

The Emperor's eyes narrowed. "Does that mean there was no safety rope?" Sanetsugu simply remained silent, a faint smile on his lips. He hadn't seen it himself either; he was merely unconditionally believing what Saneyuki had told him.

*

Meanwhile, during all of this—from Shintaro's arrival and departure to the discussion about jumping from the height of the Tower—there was one man whose focus was completely gone, who was drenched in sweat, whose heart wouldn't stop pounding, and for whom the conversation was nothing but a blur. That man was Hokura Saimon. Why was Shintaro right in front of him? Was it true that he was the Emperor's son-in-law? Was the claim that he was stronger than Soma not just a lie? Was this not some other person who just happened to look like him? Saimon couldn't accept reality. He desperately tried to deny everything that was happening by recalling only the Shintaro from his memory. But the man sitting so imposingly before the Emperor was, by anyone's measure, that very same Shintaro. The same Shintaro who, when told, "If you are to inherit the dojo, you must also serve as the Tower's bodyguard," had replied refreshingly with an untainted gaze, "I am aware." He had been so sure Shintaro would back down gracefully, but in the end, he had driven him so far that he left the capital. Saimon had thought that because of that, Shintaro would be broken in body and soul, his heart twisted by hatred, perhaps even his face changed. It was unbelievable. Shintaro was unchanged, dignified. His gaze was full of confidence, subservient to no one, scorning no one. If only he would come up and hit me, Saimon thought. If he would glare at him with eyes boiling with hatred and curse him, then they could fall into the abyss together. It was unreasonable that he alone should be tormented by guilt, trembling in fear. But Shintaro had calmly faced the Emperor, spoken his words matter-of-factly, and in the end, had never once looked in Saimon's direction.

An indescribable sense of defeat washed over Saimon, crushing his chest. For a moment, he wondered if Shintaro had appeared for revenge, but he denied it. It was Saimon, of all people, who knew that Shintaro was not that kind of man. The man who had lived without pretense, who had diligently instructed the disciples, who had loved Mana, who had looked up to and respected Saimon as a father—that man, contrary to his appearance, was pure of heart, and despite his burning fighting spirit, he disliked killing. He had sometimes been the target of the other disciples' jealousy, but he had remained unshaken, instructing even them without discrimination and helping them achieve promotion. Shintaro had believed that if he made a sincere effort, he could come to an understanding with anyone. It was because of that straightforward heart that Saimon had felt no anxiety in entrusting Mana to him. And yet, he had betrayed him so easily. Was it because he had relied on his purity, or taken advantage of his kindness? Saimon asked himself, but now he couldn't be sure. He had simply been blinded by greed and listened to the dark voice that said living by one's conscience would only lead to loss—that was the only clear and certain fact.

Later, after leaving the audience chamber and reaching the lodgings within the palace, Saimon collapsed powerlessly in the room he was assigned. Drowning in a flood of regret, tears welled in his eyes, and he pressed his forehead to the tatami mat.

"...Forgive me. Forgive me, Shintaro." When he had broken off the engagement, Saimon hadn't truly bowed his head. But this time, he begged for forgiveness from the bottom of his heart. He had learned that there is no happiness built on insincerity. The pain you inflict on others will always return. It passes from person to person, and no matter how much time it takes, it finds its way back to the beginning and exacts its own revenge.