The Tale of Two Brothers

Nanami’s investment was burning a hole in her pocket.
It was more money than Sumire truly knew what to do with, especially after getting a weapon for free. Sure, she spent morsels of it on meals and rooms at the inn, but those meager expenses (and her apprehension to overspend) still barely made a dent in the overall cache.

But that's what today was for. Today, Sumire would use that overwhelming investment to earn herself a crew.

After breakfast, she and Senren made way for an izakaya by the port, and prepared to pitch their cause to the many wayward sailors who frequented it. Once they arrived, the pair secured a table, as well as some booze and tempura, and Sumire scrawled a “Sailors Wanted” sign upon a napkin. The whole setup was about as haphazard as they were.

Which made Senren all the more surprised when sailors began to line up at their table.

“Ha-Hah!!” Sumire laughed triumphantly. “What'd I tell ya, Yankee? Look at all our potential crewmates! No one's immune to my Captain's Charisma.”

“Hm, yes, I can see that,” Senren replied, looking across the crowd skeptically. “Though I fear these men may not be fully aware of what they're getting into…”

“Huh? Hey, what d’ya mean by that—?”

“You, sir. Please, step forward.”

Senren had already called upon the first in line: a well-built, well-tanned shark fisherman. He flashed them both a friendly smile, then immediately moved in to give Senren a hearty handshake, both of his rough hands gripping one of the ronin's. Confused and taken off guard, Senren looked to Sumire for an explanation.

“It's a foreign custom,” she explained quietly. “Think of it as a sign of friendship and respect.”

“Oh. I see…”

Sumire then moved to shake the fisherman's hand as well. But, instead of accepting, or even paying her any mind, he laughed.

“Ha ha ha! I thought you'd be from the mainland,” he said with good-natured amusement. “What'd, ya finally get sick of the stuffy Imperials and decide to command the high seas?”

“Ahem,” Senren cleared his throat awkwardly. “Actually, Sumire here will be our crew’s fine captain. I am merely the quartermaster.”

The fisherman looked over to Sumire, who gave him a strained smile that looked like it was born from an emotion somewhere between “pleased to meet you” and “I will break your arm.” It made Senren wonder if she truly was a demoness.

“You're the captain?” The fisherman asked skeptically.

“That's right,” Sumire replied. “Got a problem with that?”

All of the friendliness melted from the man's face in an instant. His once joyous smile became a disgusted grimace, and he immediately stormed off. On his way out, he grumbled something about women being liabilities and belonging nowhere near the helm of a ship.

At first, Senren qualmed Sumire's churning rage by dismissing the man as an unfortunate outlier. However, the next three prospective crewmates left disgruntledly for similar reasons.

“I had no idea the Mako Clan citizens were so misogynistic…” Senren remarked as he watched the most recent rejection spit on the floor on their way out the door.

“C’mon, like the Imperials aren't a total boy's club,” Sumire rebuttaled. The ronin tried to think back on his life on the mainland, contemplating whether his companion’s statement was actually true. He paused.

“Huh… Perhaps so. But I've never had a problem with women in power, so I suppose I'd never noticed.”

Sumire sighed. “Well, that's real progressive of you,” she then raised her voice loud enough to address the other men. “But if anyone else here’s got a problem with a woman captain, then you'd better vacate the premises before I jam a lightning bolt where the sun don't shine!”

A few other sailors left the throng hurriedly. Already mentally exhausted, Sumire called up the next in line. This time, things went a bit smoother. The sailor was willing to accept Sumire as captain — encouraged it, even — and Senren wrote his information in a small notebook. However, they soon hit a snag.

“So, what's ‘er name?” the sailor asked possibly the most problematic question. “Yer vessel, I mean.”

“Er,” Sumire hesitated briefly. “She… will be The Motley—”

“Will be?” he picked up on her word choice much sooner than she'd expected. “Wha’, don't tell me ya ain't got ‘er yet?”

“Well, you see, she isn't technically mine yet, but once I have a crew—”

The man scoffed like he didn't want to hear any more.

“If ya haven't ev’n got a ship, how'm I s’posed to make a livin’ on yer crew?”

Sumire knew this might be an issue with many sailors, and so did Uncle Nanami. That's what part of the investment was for, after all.

“That's not a problem,” she said confidently. “I'll pay you a 100 Kyo advance to compensate you until we hit the seas.”

“100 Kyo?!” the sailor, unfortunately, did not sound satisfied. “Wha’ can that buy me? Make it a’ least a thousand Kyo!”

Sumire gave a rare look of shock and rejection. “But… That's ridiculous… If I give you that much, I won't have enough for other crew members…”

Clearly unwilling to listen to reason, the sailor made up his mind.

“Ya hear that, folks?” he announced to the whole izakaya as he stomped away. “The li’l girl here ain't got a ship, or ‘nuff money to pay us!”

In the wake of his scathing review, the other sailors waiting in line began fidgeting and muttering amongst themselves. The seeds of doubt were planted and the throng soon dwindled into nothingness.

Sumire sighed and slumped in her chair. “I never thought getting a crew would be this hard,” she complained. “Can you believe the nerve of that guy? I offered him a perfectly reasonable advance, and all he wanted was more!”

Senren replied with his typical hum of contemplation. Though he often took several moments before ever uttering any words, Sumire always found them to be as worthy as gold.

“Perhaps the solution is not to pay them any advance at all,” the ronin finally spoke, but his suggestion was only met with an inquisitive look. “Are you familiar with the story of the Two Brothers?”

When Sumire shook her head, Senren continued to relay the story.

“There once were two brothers who loved each other very much, but eventually went to war over conflicting political ideals. The Older Brother was in line to inherit the clan, but he was unpredictable and full of grand ideas for the future. His leadership frightened the elders of the clan. So, they instead coerced the Younger Brother, who was much easier to control, into fighting the Older Brother for the right to lead their clan.

“Although the Younger Brother had the support of the wealthy elders, the Older Brother held the loyalty of their clan’s warriors. Without any soldiers to face the clan’s army, the Younger Brother used the elders’ wealth to buy many mercenaries and bandits to fight for him.

“By the time of their war, the Younger Brother had many more warriors than the Older Brother did. However, the Older Brother’s warriors were loyal and passionate — they fought for something they believed in. The Younger Brother’s forces were only fighting for greed and glory, so when they were faced with the ferocity of the opposing army, they became scared. Eventually, every one of them dropped their weapons and fled the battlefield. As you can imagine, the Older Brother won their war.”

Sumire mulled the story over in her mind, listening intently to Senren's cool voice. All around her, the izakaya bustled with men hopping from table to table, looking for whoever would fill their pockets the most. Women gossiped amongst themselves, prattling on about deceiving their husbands, and flirting with the sailors. This is how things always were… In the shadow of wealth, an honest and loyal companion was like a buried treasure.

“I get it,” Sumire grinned, standing to tear up their napkin sign and gather their things. “Anyone who would only sail with us for a price isn't a worthy crewmate anyway. Which means we're finished here.”

Genuinely surprised to see the pirate woman so willingly conceding, Senren watched her with curiosity.
“But, then where will we go?” he asked. “Another izakaya?”

Sumire shook her head.

“Nope,” she answered, already preparing to leave. “Not even close. Pack up some booze and that leftover tempura; I'm takin’ you to meet someone.”