ᗯEL†ᔕᑕᕼᗰEᖇᘔ

Weltschmerz - World Pain.

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The yellow-grey fog of Kanazawa didn’t just sit in the warehouse district; it curdled. It was a thick, oily soup that tasted of coal dust, iron shavings, and the briny rot of the Sea of Japan. 

Jinko leaned his back against the rough, soot-stained brick of a dead-end alley, his chest heaving in jagged, burning lungfuls. Behind him, the rhythmic clack-clack of police boots on cobblestones was getting closer, punctuated by the shrill, frantic chirping of brass whistles that sounded like panicked birds in a cage.

"Found him! He’s tucked in the alleyway behind the ironworks! Don’t let the mountain rat slip!" a voice hollered, cracking with a mixture of fear and adrenaline.

Jinko spat a glob of blood-tinged saliva into the slush at his feet. "Blame it all to hell," he hissed, his accent thick as mountain sludge. "Can’t even let a feller catch his breath ’fore they’re back on ’im like flies on a gut-pile. These city dogs sure got a lot of bark in ’em."

Four officers rounded the corner, their dark blue uniforms nearly black in the gloom. They didn’t draw swords; they leveled rifles—modern, Western-made pieces with long, wicked bayonets.

Jinko didn’t surrender. He didn’t even draw his blade fully—not yet. He shifted his weight, his feet finding purchase on the slick, uneven stones.

"Shintō-Musō-Ryū", he thought, his mind snapping into a cold, technical clarity. "Muso Gonnosuke Katsuyoshi made this art to for efficiency with a staff after his loss to Miyamoto Musashi. But the beauty of the Muso Ryu is its Fuzoku-ryuha—all those auxiliary arts tucked inside it like hidden blades. If I treat this scarlet hilt like a Jō (staff), I can break their spirit without havin' to gut 'em yet."

As the first officer lunged with a bayonet thrust aimed straight for his solar plexus, Jinko moved. He didn’t parry with the edge. Instead, he utilized the Omote—the surface level—of the Jo-jutsu forms.

"Taki-otoshi", he whispered internally.

He used the curve of his scabbard (saya) as if it were the tip of a four-foot staff, catching the rifle barrel and slamming it downward into the slush. The officer’s momentum betrayed him. Jinko didn’t stop; he slid his lead hand up the scabbard, shortening his grip to mimic Uchida-ryū-tanjōjutsu. The katana was roughly the same length as a Tanjō—the short staff.

"Migi-hazushi", he calculated. He stepped to the right, his scarlet hilt flashing. He used the tsuka-gashira (pommel) to deliver a crushing blow to the officer's wrist, then pivoted his hips, sweeping the scabbard in a wide arc that caught the second officer's shins.

"Argh! My leg!"

Jinko ignored the cry. He was in the Chudan mindset now—the middle level—where the movements were less about defense and more about dominating the space. As the third officer swung his rifle butt, Jinko executed Kuru-tsue. He spun the sheathed sword between his fingers, the weight of the steel inside the wood creating a terrifying amount of centrifugal force. The "staff" slammed into the man's temple with a hollow thud.

"Zanshin", Jinko reminded himself, his eyes darting even as the third man fell. "Mind like water. Don't let the victory cloud the vision". He stayed low, the tip of his scabbard pointed at the remaining officer’s throat, a perfect image of "remaining awareness."

The fourth officer hesitated, "H-hey, y-you.. you won't get away with this god damn it!" His hands trembling as he stared at his three fallen comrades.

"May all hell befall the likes of you wh-who.. WHO DON'T CARE ABOUT THE FAMILIES WE ENFORCERS PROTECT AND FEED!!" 

Jinko’s aura shifted. The fluid, subduing grace of the staff-style evaporated, replaced by something jagged, explosive, and terrifying.

"Enough dancin’," Jinko growled internally. Time for the Satsuma scream. Time for Jigen-ryu.

He raised his sword high above his head in a stance that looked almost clumsy—unrefined and wild. He held the blade slightly tilted, his body coiled like a spring made of rusted iron. This was the "Chest-Slasher" style—the art of ending everything in one strike.

"CHESUTO!"

The kiai wasn't a human scream; it was the sound of a mountain splitting open. Jinko exploded forward. He didn’t aim for the rifle. He aimed for the space where the officer was going to be. It was a Zantotsu—a vertical cleave so fast it blurred the yellow fog.

The officer barely managed to raise his rifle in a desperate, horizontal block. The katana bit through the steel barrel and the heavy stock with a shower of sparks. The sheer kinetic force of Jinko's weight threw the man ten feet back, crashing into a stack of empty crates.

Silence returned to the alley, save for the rhythmic hiss of a steam vent. Jinko didn’t linger to admire the work. He sheathed his blade with a dull clack and vanished into the fog.

---

Twenty minutes later, Jinko was wedged into a crawlspace beneath a rotting pier near the canal. The smell was horrendous—dead fish and industrial grease—but it was quiet. He sat cross-legged, his head resting against a damp wooden pillar. He was exhausted. Not just in his muscles, but in the very marrow of his bones.

'Where’s Tenmichi?" he wondered, staring at the dark water. "She’s out there, chasin' shadows." 

"Last time I saw her was when I was heading to Tenkai, she looked real full of herself there.."

"But right now, I bet she looks like a house where the fire went out a long time ago." 

"Why did she leave as soon as Raizō and Michinori left the village?" 

"Why.. unannounced."

"Wonder if.. it has anything to do with what happened 10 years ago. Although we swore to never speak of it or let her remember it.."

"Does she even know what she’s lookin' for, or is she just chasin' a ghost ’cause she forgot how to be a person?"

His thoughts drifted back to the village. 

"Speaking of all that, Michinori... Reckon he’s eatin' right? Or is he just starin' at that map, tryin' to figure out how to keep us all from dyin'?" 

"Pfft. He looked like he couldn't give 2 coins worth of care about us when leaving."

"He doesn't have any family around so it was easy for him to garner the Meiji's attention and undergo an internship before being officially recruited.. And now he's their little puppet." 

"Meiji.. Meiji... ...Raizō..." Jinko’s jaw tightened. "That traitorous snake. He’s out there somewhere, preenin' like a peacock in a new uniform, thinkin' he’s better than the mud he crawled out of. I oughta slash his neck one day." 

"But then... there’s Tenkai.. Took a blade to the gut from that wretched bastard he nursed.. 

Wonder how his condition is holding up.. Or if he's even woken up."

And then, Aika. The image of her pale, aristocratic face in the market—so out of place, so fragile yet so stubborn, blurred in Jinko's mind.

"She’s scared. Her pop’s gonna hang, and she’s walkin' through this hell-city trustin' a maniac like me to stop it."

"Why’s she trust me? I ain't nothin' but a killer with a mountain drawl."

"Is it cause I promised her?"

"Am I even capable of living upto her promise..?"

"Why does she trust me?"

"Is it because she knows the type of person I am because of the acquaintance with my father?"

"Why does she like me?"

"Is it because she grew up being told she will eventually marry me? While I was left in the dark about it?"

"What's my thoughts about her."

"I don't know. I think the second I saw her I made an image in my head about how beautiful she is, but left it at that. Maybe I'm trying to chase that image again and again."

"Am I in love?"

"Surely not, it's too fast."

"But what if it is koi-no-yokan? (premonition of love)"

"What if.. I saw her, and I didn't fall in love with her, but I knew i eventually will."

"What if, I fell in love at a second sight?"

"Is this even the place to be thinking about all this?"

"Look at this place", Jinko thought, closing his eyes as the vibration of a distant steam-engine rattled his teeth. "Is the world supposed to be this busted? This jagged?"

"I remember lookin' up at the peaks back home, thinkin' the world was just trees and stone and the sky. It felt... whole. But here? It’s all gears and grease. It’s like someone took the world and tried to turn it into a clock, but they forgot to smooth out the edges."

"Everything’s rubbin' against everything else, throwin' sparks, burnin' folks up just to keep the hands movin'."

"There’s a gap. A big, wide, ugly gap between how things oughta be and how the mud actually feels."

"I wanted to be a hero when I was a sprout. I wanted to protect the peace. Ever since she got kidnapped all those years ago, I wanted to protect all that I can."

"But look at me now. I’m crouched under a pier like a wharf-rat, covered in soot, thinkin' ’bout the next man I gotta cut down."

"Is it right to take a life just ’cause I made a promise?"

"No, reckon it ain't. They are protecting someone too.. right?"

"But do I got a choice?"

"No. Not if I want Ai-chan to smile again."

"It’s a funny thing, bein' a maniac."

"I’m keepin' my soul in the gutter so her soul can stay in the clouds."

"I’m the rot so they don’t have to be." 

"I’ll take the sins, I’ll take the blood, and I’ll bury ’em deep so the folks I love can keep pretendin' the world is a kind place."

"That's what I vowed.. Because I was scared. I was scared from the very beginning since losing everyone I loved, that I don't want more of it." 

"I’m a monster for the sake of the saints. Ain't that a paradox? A killer prayin' for a miracle."

"I feel so old. Even though I’m just a boy, but I feel like I’ve walked across a thousand battlefields."

"Only because I lived through the news of hearing the departure of every soul that were in those battlefields."

"The world’s so full of sufferin', so full of folks gettin' crushed by gears they didn't ask for. And I’m just one feller with one sword. I can’t stop the 'Enlightenment' from turnin' men into machines. I can’t stop the injustice. All I can do is hack at the bits that get too close to mine."

"Is a bad man still bad if he’s doin' it for a good reason?"

"Reckon he’s just a different kind of bad."

"Does it matter?"

"Not to the dead."

"The world’s never gonna be what I want. It’s never gonna be that quiet mountain dream. It’s just gonna be more iron, more steam, and more blood greasin' the tracks for a future I don’t understand."

"We’re all just disappointments to ourselves, ain't we? Reachin' for the stars while we’re sinkin' in the swamp."

"But... if I don’t stand up, that light goes out. If I don’t be the monster, the Butcher wins. And I’d rather be a maniac in hell than let a girl like Aika lose the only world she’s got left."

The sadness didn't leave him. It stayed there, a heavy, cold companion in his chest, a mourning for a world that never truly existed. But his hands stopped shaking. He felt the weight of the katana—the weight of his choice. It was a burden he’d decided to carry until his back broke.

He took a deep, shaky breath, the coal-dust air burnin' his throat like lye. He wiped his face with a grimy sleeve, smeared the soot into a mask of resolve, and stood up. His joints popped and groaned in the cramped space, protestin' the cold.

He crawled out from under the pier, squintin' at the grey, mechanical light of the city. His feet were steady on the slick wood.

"Well," Jinko whispered, his voice reclaimin' its rough, mountain edge, cutting through the hiss of the steam. "Time to find Ai-chan."

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Afterword*: This was definitely my deepest chapter yet, it may feel abrupt but it was fitting. I really wanted Jinko to be explored here as a person, I hope you enjoyed. We also got to see him in action, which, by the way, is for the first time ever! Woah.