The Resistance

A resistance…

Ichiji had considered the existence of a resistance, but the more he thought of the people of Tengoku Village and their seeming resignation to the Mori forces, the more it seemed like a far-fetched dream.

Until now.

Sumida was directly confirming the existence of one. He should have known.

There would always be people willing to fight.

As long as there was hope.

But one more thing itched at the back of his mind.

“You didn’t forget, did you? You were testing me. You wanted to see whether I would still fight to help Tengoku village after seeing the people, didn’t you?”.Ichiji asked.

Sumida chuckled.

“Seems I’ve been seen through. You can’t necessarily blame me though. Multiple ”saviours” have come here, promising to help but leaving as soon as they saw.what was happening. I wanted to see whether you were different,” Sumida admitted. “But I understand now. You’re different, Ichiji. You’re a good person. Truly.”

Sumida walked past Ichiji, putting a hand on his shoulder as he walked deeper into the cave. Ichiji followed after him, his thoughts focused.

Sumida didn’t trust him at first. And who were these other “saviours” that he was referring to? His eyes focused on the back of the kimono Sumida was wearing. There was a lot he still didn’t know about this man.

The two of them continued walking as the circular entrance they were in widened into a large space.

Their steps echoed off the walls as eerie mists filled the cave. Murmurs from unseen voices and steps of ethereal feet filled Ichiji’s hearing. The mists began to coil and undulate around themselves.

They stopped being mist, twisting and gathering until they turned into shadowy figures. These figures became more vivid and their appearance changed. They became human. The monks of the temple.

They stood in front of Ichiji just like they had when they were alive. But they weren’t alive and the ones in front of him were obvious fakes. Their eyes were a dim, shallow grey. But that didn’t stop the pain in Ichiji’s heart from resurfacing. These people were now dead, because he had lost.

Their hollow mouths opened, revealing a dark cavern within. Voices Ichiji knew well came out.

“Useless child”

 “Kill yourself” 

“Your life is worthless”

Their voices grew louder and filled his head, drowning out his thoughts and his attempts to calm himself down. Ichiji didn’t know when he started screaming.

“I tried! I tried to help! I couldn’t do it! Please, leave me!”

Suddenly, Ichiji’s vision cleared. The mists were suddenly just that, mists. He turned his head slowly, stopping when Sumida entered his gaze. A worried but unsurprised look lay on Sumida’s face.

“Let’s go.”

 “What…what happened?”

 “The Space of Regret. If you have any deep regrets in your heart, they’ll manifest through the mists.”

Sumida helped him up. Ichiji had unknowingly curled up on the floor, shivering and sweating. The slight taste of blood lay in his mouth, he had bitten his lip.

“Why…why put your hideout here?” Ichiji asked, recovering. “So that we never forget. What happened, and what we need to do,” Sumida answered.

As they passed the Space of Regret, small pieces of wood began appearing, scattered on the floor. They appeared more frequently, their complexity increased as they went on.

The space widened once more, revealing a sprawling settlement. Decaying wooden houses stood about, each one given the sense of a bygone era.

As Sumida walked in, men came out from the various houses. Their gazes were fixed on him and Ichiji, especially on Ichiji. He looked around at the men, most of them seemed to be around Sumida’s age.

A big, muscular man sat in the center of the settlement, surrounded by what seemed to be a personal entourage. He looked at the two with his deep brown eyes. His demeanor and the way the men around him held themselves made his position very obvious. This was the leader of the resistance.

Sumida and Ichiji walked up, stopping in front of him. The man looked over Ichiji’s body, seemingly assessing his frame. Ichiji suddenly felt uncomfortable, as if he was a crop being held under close inspection.

He became self-conscious. Ichiji had a tall, lean build with a defined muscular frame. His hair was low, as required of all the monks of the temple. Yet, under this man’s gaze, he felt small.

The man opened his mouth, and a gruff voice came out.

“Sumida, is this him?” he asked. “Yes. He has confirmed that he’s a shaman. He sympathises with us. And he says he’s willing to fight,” Sumida answered.

The man continued to look Ichiji up and down.

“A shaman, huh? We haven’t had one since…”

At that moment, his gaze shifted for a second, something that Ichiji noticed. “Never mind. What’s your name, boy?” the man asked.

“Ryomen Ichiji.”

 “Ichiji…forgive me if I seem suspicious, but can you confirm for us if you’re a shaman or not?”

Ichiji’s breath caught. He instinctively began to cradle the stump of his left arm. He began to feel it, the myriad eyes in the cave boring into his skin. The expectation. The hope.

“I…I can’t channel currently. My left arm was forcefully amputated,” Ichiji answered truthfully.

The people that had gathered began to shake their heads and murmur. Their low voices rumbled and mixed together, forming a sort of choir. The man in front of him kept his gaze straight at Ichiji. He raised his hand up, silencing the murmurs immediately.

“Sumida…you had the nerve to bring me a defective shaman?” he asked. “I thought he could channel,” Sumida replied.

 “It’s alright,” the man said. He turned to Ichiji and said, “Well, boy, what use is a shaman that can’t channel? Don’t get me wrong, I know y’all are very strong, but we’ve had a shaman before, so you can trust me when I say that we need something more than just brute strength to defeat Omake and Mori.”

He was right. Pure superhuman strength wouldn’t be enough to depose a powerful Oni like Omake. Oni were known to wield powerful sorcery, in addition to their inhuman constitution.

Ichiji gulped before answering.

“I know. But I can promise you, I will learn how to channel again,” Ichiji said.

“Promises are not appreciated when lives are at stake, actions are. This is as far as I’ll entertain you. Carry him away from here. Now,” he said.

He pointed a hand towards Ichiji. Suddenly, hands from all over started grabbing at him forcefully, pushing him back the way he came. Ichiji struggled against them, pushing them back. He could have easily flattened them if he wished, but he didn’t.

These people weren’t his enemies. They were just men, men who didn’t believe that he could be useful. Men who had beaten down and deceived by people they thought would help. Sumida shouted from a distance, urging them to let Ichiji go.

Ichiji had to reach their hearts, one way or another. Taking a deep breath, he opened his mouth and shouted.

“Listen to me! I know what it means to lose! I know what it means to be in fear! I know what you’ve been through, and I know that I can help you! Just give me a chance!”

The men continued pushing him further and further away from the leader. A gruff voice suddenly sounded throughout the space. “Stop.”

The men obeyed without hesitation, letting go of Ichiji. The leader of the Resistance walked up to Ichiji, his massive frame looming over him.

Ichiji was tall, yet he only reached this man’s chest.

He grabbed Ichiji by his clothes and pulled him close, until he was inches away from his face.

“Don’t you ever, ever assume that you know what we’ve been through. Look around you, everyone here has lost family to the Mori Clan. Do you think you know everything just because you’ve suffered too? Huh?” the leader asked.

Ichiji looked around. Despite the looks of tension and apprehension on the men’s faces, there was something else. Something deeper.

Fear. Grief. Despair.

As Ichiji continued to look, he saw it. That same look, the same empty, listless eyes he saw in the village, covered by layers of tension and anger.

Then, he saw Sumida. And he could see it too. Deep underneath, the same despair and loss of hope.

These men, deep within themselves, they didn’t truly think they could win.

They thought their fate was sealed. They just wanted to deal with it, the only way they knew how: to fight.

Ichiji gulped, his throat getting heavier as he spoke. “No. I’m not claiming that I know exactly what you’ve been through. Or that I have the right to challenge your authority. But I do know how it feels.”

Looking around, Ichiji shouted. “I am a former member of the White Order.”

At the mention of this, the men around him wore looks of shock on their faces.

“A few days ago, my people were slaughtered by Takeda Shingen for his ideals. I had a chance to stop it, to end everything, but I failed. And I paid the price with my arm.”

“I know that you’re pained. I know that things are bad. I know you’ve been deceived and cheated by false sympathisers. But I’m not like that. My master used the last of his life to send me here. He had a reason. He wanted me to help you, and I’ll do whatever I can to make sure I do that. Or die trying. That’s the only way I’ll live while I’m here”

The men lay silent as Ichiji finished talking. Then they all turned their heads towards Shinzo, waiting for his decision.

Ichiji could see it in their faces. Slight expressions of hope had appeared. They wanted to believe him, they wanted to be helped.

And surely, he saw a flicker of hope in the leader’s eyes too.

“In 3 days, Sumida’s daughter, Yuki, will be given to Mori Terumoto as a tribute. In the next 11 days, there’ll be a celebration in the castle. Can you relearn your channeling before that time?”

Ichiji nodded surely. “Yes.”

His eyes lingered on Ichiji for a few seconds. The leader then extended his hand forward. Ichiji reached out and shook it.

“I am Shinzo Amane. Welcome to the Resistance, Ichiji.” 

“Glad to be here.”