The Crepuscule Lethe - 4

Author's Note*: Sorry for not uploading a chapter since last week! Life's been a bit hectic, any-who, this chapter will be going crazy with underground politics so sit tight!

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A heavy sack slammed onto the floorboards of the abandoned warehouse, sending a muted metallic thud echoing through the hollow structure. Dust spiraled upward, disturbed from years of stillness. Unlike the neighbouring storehouses—each stacked with merchant crates, freshly cut lumber, rice barrels—this one sat in stubborn solitude, a forgotten skeleton of Takayama’s outskirts.

Which made it perfect for people like Ichirō.

He straightened his back, rolling his shoulders as he nudged the sack with his boot. Golden glimmers winked through the loosely tied mouth of the bag—Ryō tablets, stacked and heavy with dishonest weight.

“Well,” Ichirō exhaled in satisfaction, “that oughta be the last o’ the Ryō we’ll need.”

His voice felt too loud in the cavernous room, bouncing off the warped beams overhead.

From deeper inside, where only a faint oil lamp dimly burned, another voice emerged.

“Successfully raided the fourth merchant house of the month, Ichirō?”

Toshio’s silhouette stepped forward. His arms were crossed, brows heavy from exhaustion, eyes sharp from too many sleepless nights.

“Damn right,” Ichirō grinned. He crouched to retie the cord around the sack’s throat. “This oughta be the final haul before we get our things sorted.”

He looked up.

“Where’re the others, Toshio?”

“Asleep. Or tryin’ to be.” Toshio rubbed his neck. “Probably time you wake ’em up and give ’em the talk you were sayin' you're gonna give before our big raid.”

Ichirō clicked his tongue.

“Right, call ’em over.”

---

The forest swallowed sound like a beast. Its towering cedar trunks rose like pillars supporting an endless night sky. Snow smothered the ground, crunching sharply under every bootstep.

The bandits moved in a long, winding formation, their torches dripping sparks that hissed in the cold air. Between them, dragged like livestock, were the captive women—wrists bound with coarse rope, bodies hunched from fatigue and fear.

The march was relentless. The cold was merciless.

But the front of the line carried two anomalies.

Tenmichi, small enough that the snow came up to her shins, trudged forward with trembling breaths. Beside her walked the woman—the one the boss had requested personally. Their ropes were shorter, not shared with the other captives. They were watched more closely, guarded more tightly.

Behind them, the younger bandit grumbled loudly, kicking at the snow.

“How long until Takayama?!”

Kurogane, walking ahead with an unbent posture, answered without looking back.

“We reach by tomorrow’s dawn. Most distance will be covered at midnight. We avoid samurai searches that way.”

“Tch. Annoying.” Yahiko, the complaining bandit, spat into the snow. “But I can taste the Ryō already… sellin’ these useless women, then handin’ the brat and that whore to the boss—”

Kurogane stopped walking.

Yahiko’s voice cracked mid-sentence as he nearly walked into the man’s back. Kurogane slowly turned his head, eyes dark and flat like wet stone.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself… Yahiko.”

The cold sliced sharper than the wind. Yahiko swallowed hard and instantly lowered his gaze.

“…Y-yes, Kurogane-san.”

Tenmichi watched it all with a child’s intensity. The tones, the danger, the invisible lines she felt but couldn’t name. Her small hands shook—not just from cold.

Suddenly a shove came from behind.

“Walk faster, brat.” A knee jabbed into her back.

She stumbled with a small cry. 
“Ah!”

“Watch it. Don’t you dare hurt her.”

The woman snapped, stepping slightly in front of Tenmichi despite the rope biting her wrists.

Tenmichi stared at her, stunned by the sudden protection. No one had defended her since she was taken. Her eyes shimmered with something unfamiliar—trust.

“Tch, mind your own business, bitch,” the bandit sneered. But he looked away quickly, unwilling to escalate.

The woman huffed through her nose and returned her gaze forward.

Tenmichi kept staring at her, heart pounding.

Even in a frozen nightmare like this… someone could still be kind to her.

---

“Right ye lot, wake up already. Rub that sleep off yer eyes.”

Ichirō clapped loudly, the sound sharp in the hollow room.

Four men sat slumped around the crooked wooden table—Shida, Kenichi, Tsuyoshi, and Toshio. Two looked half-dead. One looked annoyed. One looked like he could murder someone for a pillow.

Shida groaned, rubbing his face.

“Why now, Ichirō?! We didn’t sleep last night. We finally closed our eyes and you—”

“Now now, Shida!” Ichirō laughed, “Unemployment’s done a number on ye all!”

Tsuyoshi, the biggest among them, cracked his neck with a low grunt.

“No jokes. Start talking.”

“Fine.” Ichirō reached into his sleeve and pulled out a carefully folded paper. He spread it on the table. It was covered in charcoal diagrams—boxes, branches, names, arrows, all scrawled with obsessive detail.

“Look close. I’m gonna explain everything about the organization we’ve been robbin’ from. So we can hit their main base tomorrow.”

Shida raised a brow.

“Finally. You told us nothing when you hired us. ‘Help me rob a mafia I wanna give their money to the poor.’ That’s all.”

Ichirō smirked.

“All right. Memory caps on.”

He tapped the top of the page.

The Oyabun — The Shadow At The Top

“Here,” Ichirō said, voice lowering.

“The Oyabun. The man behind it all. His true identity’s known only to three executives… and one other person.”

Kenichi leaned in.

“One person? Who is it?”

“Someone living under constant threat,” Ichirō replied. “Their rule is simple: anyone who knows the Oyabun’s face gets executed. Immediately.”

The table stiffened.

“He’s a money lender, black market broker, bandit job distributor… terrorizes villages using the same bandits he pretends to protect them from.”

“A snake,” Toshio muttered.

“And in public?” Ichirō tapped the paper.

“He plays the role of a simple merchant. A lumber broker.”

Shida scoffed.

“Of course."

THE THREE EXECUTIVES

Ichirō pointed lower.

“These three directly serve the Oyabun. And all three are said to be master swordsmen.”

1. Wakagashira — The First Lieutenant.

“Oversees all bandit operations. Handles raid money. Disciplines lower ranks. Orders assassinations. Leads the deadliest operations.”

“They call him,” Ichirō paused with emphasis, “The Executioner.”

Toshio raised his brows.

“Tough one, I assume.”

“They all are,” Ichirō confirmed.

2. Fukuwakagashira — Deputy Lieutenant.

“Diplomat. Negotiator. Bribes officials, manages village relations, creates trade fronts. Keeps the boss’s public reputation pristine.”

Kenichi sighed.

“Someone every Nanushi would know well.”

“Aye.”

3. Kanjō-Bugyō — The Treasurer.

“Handles all finances. Secret ledgers. Storage houses. Laundering through sake shops.”

Shida frowned.

“Kanjō-Bugyō… like the Shogunate’s finance commissioners?”

“Ironic copycats, aye.”

The men nodded, absorbing the weight of each role.

THE SECOND TIER — THE FOUR ARMS OF THE MAFIA

“Here’s where things get complicated,” Ichirō warned.

He pointed to the next branch.

“These four divisions run the organization’s operations.”

Shatei-gashira — Captain of the Younger Brothers.

“Commands veteran bandits, smugglers, enforcers. They call each other ‘family’, though none are related.”

“No blood ties?” Kenichi asked.

“Nope. Pseudo-familial bonds to bind criminals emotionally. Makes betrayal feel like abandoning kin.”

Toshio nodded.

“I’ve heard of that. Criminals with broken homes use it to fill a void.”

“Aye.”

Rengō-tōryō — Union Chiefs

“Independent clans. Not direct employees. Get jobs, do raids, pay a percentage. Act as shock troops.”

Shida exhaled.

“Means the Oyabun has reach across the whole region…”

“Aye. Wider than most daimyo.”

Kage-musha — Shadow Lieutenants

“These guys are dangerous. Spies. Informants. Monks disguised as travelers. Ronin trackers. Mountain scouts.”

“All-terrain hunters,” Tsuyoshi muttered.

Kurayami-gumi — Darkness Unit

“Kidnapping, stealth raids, hostage moving, border crossing. The filthy work.”

“Lovely, or not.. I guess.” Kenichi mumbled.

THE THIRD TIER — THE SPECIALISTS

“We’re almost done,” Ichirō assured them, though his grin implied otherwise.

Kaishaku — Disciplinary Executioner

“Handles traitors. More feared than the Oyabun.”

Sorikata — Interrogation Specialist

“Torture experts. They can break men in hours.”

Matsugashira — Forest Route Master

“Knows every hidden path, avalanche risk, safehouse. Dangerous in their territory.”

Inaka-Daihyo — Rural Representatives

“Spread rumors. Recruit youths.”

Zeni-no-Mushi — Money Worms

“Black market accountants.”

“And the fourth tier?” Shida asked tiredly.

“Irrelevant,” Ichirō waved off. “Just fodder.”

He leaned back, folding his arms. His tone shifted—harder, colder.

“Now ye understand the monster we’re fightin’.”

The men gazed at the diagram, sweating despite the cold warehouse.

Ichirō’s grin widened.

“Well. There’s a reason I walked ye through all this.”

Silence.

He tapped the table once.

“I want each of ye to take down an entire tier… by yerselves.”

No one breathed.

Toshio stared at him.
Shida’s mouth fell open.
Kenichi’s hands tensed.
Tsuyoshi cracked his knuckles with a bloodthirsty grin.

Ichirō’s eyes gleamed under the dim oil lamp.

Tomorrow… they would shake the mountain.

---

Snow softened the night like a quilt laid over the world, muting the crunch of boots and the faint clatter of weapons. The bandits finally called a halt beneath a canopy of cedar and bare-limbed maple, where the moonlight broke through in pale streaks like prison bars across the ground.

Tenmichi was pushed down onto a cold stump, the ropes binding her wrists rough against her skin. Beside her, tied to the same length of rope, the woman—thin, bruised, but strangely gentle in the eyes—lowered herself to the ground with a wince.

"Sit still," one of the guards barked, chewing on a dried persimmon. “We leave when the moon’s past the highest branch.”

Tenmichi’s breath fogged faintly as she stared at the snow.

She was trying not to cry—her little jaw clenched, chin trembling the way children try so hard to hide.

The woman noticed.

A soft hand, trembling but warm, settled on the girl’s back.

“Breathe slowly,” the woman murmured. “It hurts less when you breathe slow.”

Tenmichi sniffled. “I wasn’t crying.”

“I know,” the woman said with a tiny smile. “But brave people forget to breathe too.”

Tenmichi peeked at her. The woman had a tired beauty—sunken cheeks, cracked lips, and hair matted from travel—but her eyes were gentle, like she understood everything Tenmichi feared long before she ever said a word.

“You’re hurt,” Tenmichi whispered.

“So are you.”

They sat there, two captives in the snow, sharing warmth simply by leaning closer.

The woman sighed shakily. “You should not be here, little one. You should be home. By the fire. Eating something warm.”

Tenmichi swallowed. “They… they said they’re taking you to the boss. The Oyabun.”

The woman’s breath hitched, just slightly.

“Yes,” she said quietly. “They are.”

Tenmichi’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why… why did they take you? Did you steal something? Or… or do something wrong?”

A pause.

The woman closed her eyes, as if bracing herself.

“Sweetheart,” she whispered, “sometimes adults do not get taken because we did something wrong. Sometimes we get taken because we saw something we were never meant to see.”

Tenmichi tilted her head.

The woman exhaled shakily. “I suppose… talking will make the fear leave my bones a little. And perhaps it will help you too. Do you want to hear a story?”

Tenmichi nodded immediately.

The woman smiled—not happily, but softly—and began.

---

“I worked,” the woman said, “as a maid in Takayama. In a large merchant’s home. Bigger than most inns. Three floors. Sliding paper doors painted with cranes. Red lanterns in the hall every night.”

Her eyes softened despite herself.

“I served tea. Cleaned the corridors. Helped the daughter of the house pick her kimonos every morning. She was nearing the age of marriage, I think.”

“What was her name?” Tenmichi whispered.

A tremble ran through the woman’s hands.

“Naomi.”

She let the name hang in the cold.

“I used to braid her hair for festivals. She had long black hair all the way down to her back. Straight like water. She laughed every time I tied ribbons too tight. She said I treated her like a doll.”

Tenmichi listened, eyes wide, clutching the woman’s sleeve.

"We used to hide in the storage room,” the woman continued, voice thinning at the edges, “and she’d take sweet rice cakes from the kitchen and split them in half. She always gave me the bigger half. She said I never smiled unless I had food.”

A watery laugh escaped her, barely a breath.

“She was… she was like a little sister to me.”

The snow fell quietly around them, covering footprints and smoothing the world. It felt wrong that the world could be so peaceful while the woman shook telling her story.

Then her voice lowered.

“But the master… her father… he was not the man the town thought he was.”

Tenmichi’s face tightened. “Was he bad?”

The woman hesitated.

“He was powerful,” she said carefully. “And powerful men—especially those who smile too much—often hide many things.”

Her eyes drifted to the dark sky.

“I was poor. My mother had no money. I sent all my Ryō back home so she could eat. And because of that… I could not refuse the master when he asked me to come to his room.”

Tenmichi blinked. “…Why? To clean?”

The woman paused—too long.

“…Yes,” she answered softly. “To clean.”

Her hands curled into fists in her lap.

“Those nights… I always kept my eyes down. I always tried to leave quickly. I thought if I endured quietly, nobody would know. If I endured long enough, I could save enough to free my mother from poverty. I told myself it was worth it.”

She swallowed hard.

“And for a while… I believed I could bear anything.”

The campfire crackled. Somewhere a bandit laughed crudely. The forest felt too alive for such a quiet, devastating confession.

“And then,” the woman whispered, voice cracking, “one night… I saw something I should never have seen.”

Her hand trembled violently.

“Naomi was crying in her room. I heard it from the hallway. I thought she scraped her knee again. She always made too much noise for small injuries.”

Her lips quivered. “So I went in.”

Tenmichi squeezed her hand tight, as if sensing the moment the memory turned dark.

The woman’s eyes unfocused—lost in the past.

“He was on top of her,” she said hollowly. “Choking her. With his bare hands.”

Tenmichi’s breath stopped. The woman’s did too.

“Her little hands… they were trying to claw at his sleeves. Her feet kicking against the tatami. And he—he wasn’t angry. He was quiet. Breathing slow. Like… like he had done it before.”

Snowflakes collected in the woman’s eyelashes like little white tears.

“I froze. I couldn’t scream. Couldn’t move. All I heard was the sound of her nails scratching the floor… then nothing.”

Tenmichi covered her mouth.

“I ran,” the woman whispered. “I ran down the corridor. Down the stairs. Through the back garden. I didn’t take my shoes. I didn’t take my things. I just ran.”

She closed her eyes tightly.

“But someone must have told him. Or he knew. Because I didn’t get far. I reached the edge of the street before I felt a hand grab my hair from behind.”

A shudder ran through her whole body.

“They beat me. Dragged me through the mud. Covered my mouth so I wouldn’t scream. They took me to a storage cellar, waiting for the master to come.”

Tenmichi leaned in, tears forming but silent.

“Those men looked at me,” the woman said, voice barely a whisper, “as if I were something they already owned.”

Her breath trembled.

“And they said:

‘You saw what you should not. So now you must be disposed of.’”

Tenmichi’s heart thudded painfully.

“They were going to kill me back then,” the woman continued, “but someone stopped them. A man from the shadows. He came in with a blitzing sword and struck them down all at once. He was like a nymph of some sort, he told me to run away before others make it to the cellar.”

"But I'm so worthless. I couldn't save Naomi-chan as I was scared, and I couldn't save myself either.. I got caught again."

Tenmichi stiffened. “So that's why the… the Oyabun, you're being taken to him now?”

The woman nodded helplessly.

“Yes. I didn’t know at the time. But the master… the merchant… he was the Oyabun all along. And now… after running once… he will not let me run again.”

Her voice went faint.

“They’re taking me back so he can finish what he started.”

The cold felt suddenly sharper. The forest darker. Even the bandits’ voices in the distance seemed to fade.

Tenmichi’s small hands reached up and cupped the woman’s cheeks.

“Don’t be scared,” she whispered, trembling. “I… I’ll protect you.”

"I don't know what any of those words you said meant in that tent earlier today.. But you were about to cry so all I could do is scream 'ENOUGH!'"

The woman laughed—a tiny, broken sound. “Little one… you’re too small. You saved me without realizing what I was even confessing, huh? You're doing too much for your age.”

“But… but I want to,” Tenmichi insisted. “I’m brave.”

The woman pulled her close, pressing Tenmichi’s forehead to her collarbone, breathing her in like something pure in a filthy world.

“You are,” she whispered. “You are the bravest girl I’ve ever met.”

For a moment, they stayed like that—two souls clinging to each other in the cold.

Until—

A bandit’s shadow loomed over them.

“Break’s over,” he growled. “Move.”

The woman flinched. Tenmichi held her tighter.

And as they stood, bound together, the woman thought:

"If this child survives, she will grow into someone that kind of world fears, and something the pure kind of world adores."

And Tenmichi thought:

"I’ll get you out. I don’t know how… but I will."

Even if she was only six.

Even if the night felt endless.

Even if the Oyabun was waiting.

---

Afterword*: Leave a like please every chapter is getting an average of 120 views since Act II started but most except the goated Shadowless3 and rainchip and my 3 oomfs are leaving a like or a comment?! Come on!! Jokes aside, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, we are still in the "prequel" arc but I swear we will get back to the main story soon!!