Lost Existence
The heat of hell can be seen
When vengeance takes a hold of one's dream
Volume 2: 5/21/1588; When Rage Takes Control
It was a red, forbidden dawn that ascended upon me this morning. My emotions contrasted with an inner beauty, my composure was at odds. I had set Urona as a priority this morning, I had tried to see if I could assist him in recovering his noble samurai spirit, but alas anguish persists to soil his honor. How could I discern that that a travesty was to befall these ingenious beings, helpless due to the false sense of lingering security that their village offered?! It is true that my intuition communicated to me that something was amiss, but in the midst of it all one must have his own agenda of ambitions. But with ambition, comes carelessness and conceit, and it appears that I have fallen victim to such weak emotions dissuaded by the way of the warrior. Such undisciplined behavior! It is not to be accepted, even by me. However, I am no god, even under principle, premonition remains premonition, accept for when engaged in battle. Now what is done is done. What had to be accomplished today was to gather information on the arsons and dispose of their kind. A journey, one not premeditated yesterday. A slaughter, one not premeditated yesterday. Redemption, feelings not premeditated yesterday. Now all was to avenge the honor to a rare civilization of people lost to the embers of a solitary conflict of yesterday.
My first resolution was to get off this mountain. This task was to be easier commuted than done. It took much of a patience that I was very much bereft of at the time. I ran through the trail of the range trying to find my way. Wary of the dangers of the range, I struggled but just managed to keep what little sense I had alive. I ran until I finally was striking luck. Turning a rather tricky roundabout, I saw a small village. I assume I had run past a few temples on the way, blinded by my state of unsure haste. Surly the keep of the mountain had stalked many a sunset, ravaging it of beauty, demanding to know its reasons, for the sun rose apologetically slow. I began to descend the trail, when a presence, alerted my senses, a presence that had eluded my earlier awareness. Instinctively, my hand shot to the hilt of my sword, my other hand stabilized my sheath. A shadow came into view, as my face began to perspire. Could it be… a spy? Was this presence a source of an ally or a foe? No, it could have had any chance to attack me on the trail; therefore it must not be a threatening presence. The shogun's faithful metsuke probably had already reported the burnings and the reported sightings of Urona and me. I was aware the government was trying to contact me directly, as of now, due to the sword hunt. Could it have been one of the inexperienced ones eager to gather information for the shogun? No, even they wouldn't be permitted to blow their cover. Could it have been the arsonists searching for the final victim to quench their bloodlust? Whoever it was, I remained in an attentive position ready to defend my anatomy if I must. I kept a close eye on the shadow, my right shoulder facing it, cautiously. The presence commenced its movements ever so closer. Then, the air cleared and the fog partially lifted. With it went the question of whether this presence was friend or foe, for I was to discover that it was none other than Uro himself.
"Cousin, what do you mean by pursuing me!? I should say that you would have been done away with, if not for the fog alleviating itself"!
"Muyo, didn't I tell you that these actions would come to pass! It is indeed the government's doing! The carnage… those bastards will pay for it with their lives".
"I do not know nor assume that the shogun nor his metsuke are responsible for any of it. However, I do know that when I find the ones who have castrated the honor of such peace, they shall repent with their very own lives".
"That's the way cousin that is the way to feel! Now let's get these impudent politicians".
What are you insinuating with "lets". This matter has everything to do with me and nothing to do with you, my volatile cousin".
"What do you mean Muyo? I'm your cousin, your flesh and blood. May I remind you of the countless instances where I was the savior of your life, during the war? What about attaining that calligraphy job that you had requested so feebly? The least you could do, is allow me to assist you in such glory, you ungrateful, selfish bastard!" Urona said the last part with a slightly comical, slightly enraged voice.
"Uro, be attentive for a moment. I do not mean anything by denying you the assistance that you have so willingly prescribed. I merely want to relinquish the risk of harm to you. You're the only remnant of the family still breathing".
That's right. Uro knew it to. Both of our families had been the victims of spontaneous bloodshed. The damn, unforgiving government took the lives of Demashi Uryu and Demashi Enou Akiyo, my father and my mother.
On a night, where the light of the moon hadn't dared to beam down on the earth, On a night where even the many cicadas hadn't dared make a noise dwelling in a distant land where the voice of the translucent water had ran dry, shut up by the malevolence of the atmosphere. All remained tacit until a stampede of hooves and feet encroached upon the peaceful ground, causing the earth to groan under the distress of such behemoths. Raucous laughter and yells of bloodlust permeated the air, soiling it with utter degradation and murder. The government was to fault for all of it. In a domain, untouched by the contaminated air, lied a woman of incomparable elegance, grace, and beauty, holding a bundle of benevolence in her smooth, slender arms close to her soft, cushioned bosom. By her side, stood a man of an indomitable spirit, unwavering duty, and indisputable honor, a man whose loyalty to the shogun was absolute. Here was this vassal of complete servitude, who sacrificed his entirety for what? A fallible government led by an imperfect being who knew nothing of governing himself much less a mass of people. What a fool Yoshimitsu was to lose his grip on the country and allow the sengoku jidai to be instigated. That is what destroyed my compassion that is what had undergone to break my heart. As insubordinate as Yoshimitsu persisted to be, my father followed him to the very end, a duty to the shogun that was passed on to me. It was not so much a duty as it was a curse. As sudden as the swallowing wave of the sea, the clans of Takeda and Mori introduced each other to the nature of the sword in a harsh manner. During the confusion, the man of honor ran out of his domain, sword at the ready, to fend off the intruders. He showed his allegiance to Yoshimitsu, but to men blind to who the true ruler is, it meant nothing. A bloodcurdling scream resounded through the ignorant night, glad to be rid of another annoyance. The woman ran out, relieving the bundle in a concealed place far away from any harm. The beasts ensured their dreadful carnage upon their surroundings. Bodies swung left and right. Yet, she persisted. Swords and spears taunted what was near, their ever-present blades swiping life away from another living being. Yet, she persisted. Vile curses and vociferous noises degraded the environment, causing even the trees to shudder in uncertainty. Why had she persisted? She, with her slender pettiness, stood in the middle of the two legions, trying to hold them back. A head emerged from underneath the bundle, in time to see an unruly whir of a blade and a shadow slump to its knees and fall upon the distressed ground with a slight plump. Even though the young mind inside the bundle was in the least shape to comprehend what was transpiring, he comprehended that his providers, caterers, and lovers had somehow disappeared to be replaced with a falling shadow. As instantly as the battle came so had it ended, proceeded by murderous stillness accompanied by the sour taste of blood on the air. Nauseous from the scent the little head sunk back in its bundle and fell asleep.
When the infant had awakened from his slumber, he found himself in unfamiliar territory. He bawled and pumped his fist, his little mind injecting fear in his miniscule heart.
"Awe dear little boy, please don't cry, you make me so sad, I have to sigh".
That was the first thing aunt Miyaki Otsu had sung to the infant, reducing his sobs and inducing his cues.
"Miyaki-chan, how goes little Muyo-kun?" Uncle Miyaki Demashi Onzu would ask.
"At peace, like the wind, my dear" she would respond.
Onzu made his entrance in a timid tip-toe with a steaming, perspiring teapot and a look of utter frankness. He was indeed, the counter opposite of great brother onee-chan Demashi, as he was prescribed to call him by their father Demashi Urameshi, a vassal to the shogun. His peaceful, docile, and insufferably passive attitude made him an issue to the family name of the Demashi. Even though uncle Otsu was initially, a weakling, his intellect was incomprehensibly abundant. Therefore, the presence of a mind blessed with interpretations that others couldn't possibly fathom, replaced the absence of a long lost courage of dignity. Although Uncle Onzu seemingly could not avoid the many thrashings given to him by his peers as a kid, he would gain the immense favor of the many instructors of his school. Although Uncle Onzu was exceedingly becoming more and more inferior amongst the studies of the way of the sword, his reading and interpretation abilities pervaded that of most scholars. He acquired introspective relationship with other introspective people associated in highest positions whom were the closest to the shogun. This was an atypical occurrence in this era of the jidai, where ji-samurai prospered for such positions. Nevertheless, one thing led to another and Uncle Onzu found himself among politicians and unlimited wealth of the highest kind, all due to his competent above average intellect. Of course, he and onee-chan Demashi lived very different lives. Grand Urameshi had placed his blessings upon onee-chan Demashi, his oldest son, the prospective samurai that was to bring honor and glory to the name of Demashi. Grand Urameshi denied Onzu not only his blessing, but his attention, holding bias toward Uryu. Consequently, Uncle Onzu expended much time with Gran Uri, his mother. From her, he attained the abilities to sew, cook, and organize the sacred tea ceremony, duties required of women. Upon observing this, his father's disgust and shame grew. He proceeded to reprimand Gran Uri.
However after much deliberation, Grand Urameshi declared "Ah… what has it to do with one such as I?! As far as I am concerned and as far as he is considered, this person is not my son! Let him become a beggar of men. That is what he wishes to amount to, anyway. He is no son of mine! I only have one recipient to whom I shall pass my blessings upon! Tonight, you will gather your belongings and leave this place. This is no home for you anymore, boy! You are merely a guest whom has worn out his welcome."
"Demashi-sama please… Onzu-kun is only of the age nine! You cannot possibly expect him to fend for himself"!!
"You dare to defy my word! If need be, I shall put you in your place Uri-chan!"
"Father, allow me to some input", Uryu intersected.
"It shall be done. What is it, honorable Demashi-kun?"
"If you would allow, is it really imperative that Onzu-kun leave his domain. I love and revere everyone within my family, no matter what setbacks or flaws. I must say as onee-chan to Onzu and as honorable son to you, honorable mother and heir to your prestigious sword, honorable father, I must request that Onzu-kun remain here. Please allow this, honorable father, Demashi-sama", Uryu implored, bowing down on his knees.
"On your feet, honorable Demashi-kun", Grand Urameshi, said, surprised by the desperation poised on the face of his older son.
"If not for Onzu, mother, or me, please allow it for our ancestors. I'm sure that they wouldn't wish for this, no matter how weak Onzu-kun is! Allow me to put it in this context… if you send my brother away, you will be sending me away, as well. If you must, just allow him to stay in the guest-house, at least until he comes of age! Please o' honorable father, Onzu-kun is only a child"!
After a few moments of stalling meditation, Grand Urameshi sighed and said, "very well. He shall stay, but only at the expense that he stays out of my range of sight".
So Onzu ended up remaining at that residence, a visitor, a tenant of his own domain, of his own family name. And with every authentic visitor that came to be at the Demashi estate, Uncle Onzu-kun transformed into the distinguished Onzu-san, our retainer. However, it wasn't long before Yoshimitsu himself, came to grace the Demashi household with his presence.
"This is quite an immaculate domain you possess, Urameshi-san", Yoshimitsu said, in his calm, dignified voice.
"I am eternally grateful, your Excellency. It is an honor to appeal to your magnificent tastes", Grand Urameshi, responded, humbly prostrating himself on the ground. While Grand Urameshi was greeting Yoshimitsu, Gran Uri was retrieving the Naomi painting in the honor of Yoshimitsu. Naomi, a good friend and a victim of much camaraderie on Yoshimitsu's part, was the creator of many elaborate, masterful works of art. As Yoshimitsu entered the room to be greeted by the works, Grand Urameshi signaled for Gran Uri to go into the kitchen and assure that everything was going accordingly. In the kitchen, Onzu was preparing the moshi, with delicate care, all the while, dressing the table in the conference room for the meal.
"Onzu-kun, your father and his Excellency are here!"
"Yes, honorable mother", Onzu stated, finishing the preparation of the moshi and pickled rice. Onzu prepared the table in traditional manner and politely waited at the side of the entrance for Yoshimitsu and Grand Urameshi to enter the room.
"Oh, your Excellency, have you had the opportunity to meet the acquaintance of my son, Uryu".
"Not quite often enough", Yoshimitsu stated, with a hint of derision in his voice, as onee-chan Demashi got upon his knees in a low bow. After the proper formalities were made, Grand Urameshi, onee-chan Demashi, and Yoshimitsu began to make their way to the conference room for the anticipated meal.
"My… this is quite splendid, Demashi-san", Yoshimitsu replied observing the dressed table. "May I ask who is responsible for such diligence"?
"Please, your Excellency, it need not matter. Let us enjoy this time of camaraderie", Grand Urameshi said with haste, yet Yoshimitsu persisted, with a twinkle of astonishment in his eye. As Grand Urameshi would bring about issues of the government in the northern courts and the southern courts, Yoshimitsu kept steering the banter toward the dressing of the table and the class of the Naomi painting. It wasn't long before Yoshimitsu insisted that Grand Urameshi tell him who exactly was the one who dressed the table.
"I implore upon you, Demashi-san, I must know who dressed this table."
"It… it was my… wi…"
"Whom ever dressed this table deserves quite a generous position among my most entrusted servants, accompanied with quite a generous stipend for his entire family and him."
"It was him, our servant Oigami", Gran Uri responded, pointing at Onzu abruptly.
The shogun, Yoshimitsu got on his feet, preparing to make an announcement, his grand robes swishing this way and that.
"I now declare Oigami, an official assistant of the magnificent cook by decree of the Muromachi and Kyoto castle."
So it came to pass that the clan of Demashi rose in rank under the pretense of Onzu's new disposition as Oigami. With the skill of onee-chan Demashi and the elegance, sophistication, and intelligence of Demashi-kun, this also retrieved him a wife, the family prospered…that is until Yoshimitsu resigned in 1494. The lousy bastard left the throne in a period filled with sudden, chaotic civil wars, leaving nothing, but a meek successor that was to succumb to such an atmosphere. Perhaps, Uncle Onzu lived in a more peaceful ideal mentality and I had always respected that as my father, onee-chan Demashi Uryu did. That is why father realized that he needed Uncle Onzu to remain on the Demashi estate. My father did posses quite a habit of providing decisions that would bring future fortune.
Now it would seem that I was to grow progressively older with my heirless kin. Heirless, but time would soon change that, for birthed to them, was an infant that was soon to become one of the greatest forces in the military. My cousin, Miyaki Demashi Urona, heir to the Miyaki name, a clan that had long since been decimated, was born in a bundle of glee. Much peace was to prosper from then on… or so my Uncle thought. Until the civil wars arrived on his doorstep in a day that would forever live in infamy.
"Demashi-kun, Urona-kun, stay by the cottage", Aunt Otsu had advised us on that day. Me, being of the age of twelve, should have known to heed such wise words. Yet, I was still very much naïve, and so I took little Uro-kun to the brook so that we could play "fish". Suddenly, just as my hand had grasped the slime of the fish, a chorus of screams erupted from the distant silence filling my youthful ears and numbing my incoherent mind. I did what my first reaction demanded of me to do. I retrieved Uro-kun and we concealed ourselves within the bushes. His cues and monosyllables accompanying us all the way to our hiding place. I held him close to my chest tightly, so that he wouldn't make a sound. The queer thing about this situation was that Uro-kun seemed to know what was transpiring while in concealment because he became as quiet as the smooth water.
"Make sure there are no witnesses!!" I heard a man's gruff voice rant.
I heard Urona's coos begin to quiver and that coughing sound before a young ones innocent cry.
"Shh, shh", I said, trying to remember how Aunt Otsu would rock him to sleep. Then I saw him, one of the beasts responsible for the screams. His stature was that of a behemoth, far too large for someone as small as I was. My only hope was to pray to Buddha that this one would not find us. My heart beat immensely increased to the point where I felt that my body would consume it and my body itself struggled with the strain of me suppressing urination.
To my relief, the Mori thug turned uphill and yelled "Nothing here, boss". He proceeded to head back up the hill, when Urona began to squabble and cry. "Who's there?" The Mori thug said, hearing the infant's cries. I had no choice. I emerged from our place of concealment, a large stick of bamboo in my hand. The Mori behemoth outstretched his hand to grab me, but I swayed quickly and struck his hand hard with the stick, breaking the stick. I could sense the small fracture I had given him, as he reeled back favoring his hand. Then, I realized why Uncle Onzu always desired to indulge in "samurai" play with me everyday. His motive was not just mere play, but preparing me in the fundamentals of the sword. Although his swordplay was weak, he taught me much. As the behemoth was favoring his hand, I retrieved a broken part of this large stick and was about to ram my gargantuan opponent through, when he got a second wind and withdrew his sword. For a brief moment, I dropped the stick, frozen with terror.
"Prepare to die, you little bastard", the beast spat, beginning to bring the sword down upon me. It was then that I remembered the words of Uncle Onzu.
Your father was a magnificent warrior of exceptional ability. You must make him proud and cherish the name of Demashi. Remember if you should ever encounter a conflict, it is imperative that you fight with the greatest abundance of honor inside your heart. Always remind yourself of this as you draw up your weapon. Be a constant beacon of honor, honorable nephew.
I drew up the two broken pieces of that large stick of bamboo, my hands stained with blood from the tough texture; I felt the wind of destiny reverberate in my body. The behemouth raised his sword of invisible bloodlust and swung down with red, murderous eyes that suggested such intentions. I blocked his swing, the broken sticks firmly on top of each other. Using the Mori behemouth momentum against him, I pushed him off of his balance, snatched his sword that he had clumsily dropped, and rammed him through with it. It all happened so simultaneously, that after the fact, I didn't even recognize the jist of what I had just done. It wasn't until later that I had really realized what had been done. That was the first time that my hands were stained from the blood of another, and I cursed that man and myself for taking my pure virginity of ever spilling anyone's blood. It did not take much longer for the shogun's doshin to get there and regulate the situation. When they had found us, we were still in concealment by the brook. I had tried to emaciate the blood off of my hands, with little success. One of the doshin saw Uro-kun and me trembling, the blood-stained sword, and the dead Mori thug, and must have perceived what had happened.
"Well, isn't this astonishing. We have a little warrior here, men", he said, indicating me. "By the looks of it, it looks like this big, ignorant Mori thug tried to kill you two. But you, boy, you must have dealt with him, isn't that right?"
I nodded my head and found just enough of my voice to say "M-my name… is… Muyo."
"Did all of you hear that? Well, Muyo-kun, that was quite a feat that you have accomplished. Slaying a huge Mori hoodlum such as this behemouth, that's quite impressive, indeed", the one who appeared to be the head of this particular squad of doshin. This man, I would soon get to know as Toyotomi Hideyoshi, who would come to teach me a kind of Mujinshin-ken.
Hideyoshi just chuckled and said, "Remove these two from the area for now. We will decide what to do with these problems later."
By problems, Hideyoshi meant us. He seemed bothered by our presence. Back then, I was just a nuisance to him, but soon he would come to know me as a challenge to all that was put before me. It wasn't long before Hideyoshi brought us before the shogun, the fierce Oda Nobunaga. He described the tragic chain of events that had just transpired in full detail to Nobunaga. His eyes lit up with interest, as Hideyoshi dug deeper and deeper within his account of what he had learned of the environment and of me, his only two sources to this short anecdote.
After he had debriefed Nobunaga, Nobunaga stated, "We shall take these two in as stable boys. The infant shall remain in the woman's quarters until he is of age. Instruct Muyo-kun in the way of the sword starting the morrow,"
"Yes, you're excellency", Hideyoshi said, with a low bow, seizing my sleeve, prompting me to prostrate myself before the shogun. Uro, just a toddler at that time, sat there and clapped his hands joyously, clearly his form of showing respect due to the lack of comprehension expected of one as young as he.
"You are dismissed", Nobunaga said, with cold reverence.
Since that prominent meeting, I have been groomed to be the perfect warrior. I have analyzed Sun Tzu's works pertaining to Bushido in heavy Zen meditation. I have had to focus my mind in the most advanced techniques Hideyoshi had taught me, so diligently. The Mugai Ryu sword drawing techniques, the Hoki Ryu Iaido, and one of my more favorable techniques, the Toronto Niten Kai, a technique originated and used by Miyamoto Musashi himself. There were many more techniques instructed to me, but my reluctance to the sword was still something that remained to be overcome. Uro was a different matter. Living in the women quarters, he was exposed to a lot of devious matters among gossip as well. When he had finally come of the age of five, he began instruction of Bushido. Born into such a boring, yet devious environment conditioned to withstand the rigors of the mental skill necessary to understand the swiftness of the sword. With nostalgia, I can recall his first duel. With that wild, yet calm look in his eyes, he took out every soul that stepped up to challenge him. Ever since then, I have strived to gain that look that he had on that devious moment. It wasn't long that I had realized that I had attained that look a long time ago, when I killed that Mori fiend. The glee glare of the Demashi clan.
But alas, reliving all the forgotten tragedies of the unwanted past would not permit my conscious to put Uro in such danger.
"Uro, if you accompany me, you shall have to be very discreet. I do not wish to lose the only remnant of what I have left. You must live to reclaim the lost honor of the Demashi clan with your art".
"Huh… Muyo, you worry too much. I will remain just as I am now. As long as I possess this foreign invincibility", Urona said, once again revealing his mischievous pistol.
"Uro… no matter what I could manage to retort, you could never stay behind and await my return".
"That is correct my cous… no my brother. We are family; there is no separating us onee-chan Muyo."
"Huh… just be sure that you don't aim that wretched obstruction in the wrong place."
"You got it Muyo. Let me just…." a bang interrupts the tranquil silence. "Merciful Buddha, this damn thing shot me again!"
"Uro, the gun didn't shoot, you shot yourself, miserable cousin. Here, let's get you some medical attention."
And so, the journey to mold a destiny out of a tragedy commences, a goal to change the future of what would be destruction begins. A journey that should've begun yesterday arrives today to avenge the martyrs of the past and the sacrifices of tomorrow. Signing off.
DEMASHI MUYONSHU
P.S: This adventure is becoming quite a pesky one. Tomorrow promises to be even more intriguing, Ja-naru.
By: Samurai Poet Stephen Webb
Volume 3 is on the way!
