Yashiro the Blind

“Of course…” she nodded, then asked, “But I wonder how Lord Bu Chuan and the Dragon Prince are doing lately?”

"Sigh, Father is in excellent health. In the past few years, he hasn't had a serious illness, not even a minor cold. It makes us younger generation feel a little ashamed. As for Longzi... haha, she's still the same as ever, always restless and causing trouble. Two months ago, she suddenly told Father and went to Shikoku to play by herself. She really doesn't act like a woman at all... cough cough, sorry, Longzi is your friend, I shouldn't have said that to your face."

As if to cover up his embarrassment, Tsukahara Takehira scratched his head with his fan and started laughing again.

Yashiro smiled and said, "Lord Takehira need not take it to heart. After all... these words are nothing compared to your private conversation in the room just now. How could I possibly be angry about them?"

"Oh?"

The smile on his face froze. Not only Tsukahara Takehira, but the previously settled samurai also began to stir. However, he then waved his fan, stopping the others. "Miss Yashiro, what you're saying is quite absurd. I was just having a few drinks and chatting with these long-lost friends. Because their status is not very respectable, I chose this deserted house in the middle of nowhere. There's no conspiracy involved..."

Before he could finish his sentence, Yashiro suddenly spoke up:

"...Don't think I don't know. You guys were chased like dogs all the way from Yuanjiang by that Dragon Palace attendant. I can help you hide, but you have to do something for me. I have a junior named Long Zi, who's incredibly detestable. I've tolerated her for many years, but recently she's become increasingly arrogant... It just so happens that she's gone to the Four Kingdoms recently, and she's all alone, making it the perfect opportunity to strike."

"I'll arrange a ship for you to kill the Dragon Prince, and in return, I'll take care of that inexplicable Dragon Palace attendant—by the way, not to brag, but while the Dragon Prince's personality isn't great, she's a stunning beauty. Before killing her, you can do whatever you want with her. So, are you in or not? If not, get out of Deer Island right now."

It was clearly a girl's soft voice, yet she deliberately adopted a vulgar and impatient tone, and she imitated it so perfectly that it made people laugh... Unfortunately, none of the people present could laugh when they heard this.

Instead, they were all staring at her as if she were a monster.

"Lord Wuping, your friendly demeanor is quite different from that of four years ago. I suppose it's because you're unsure of my true strength, whether I'm hiding my true abilities or simply a weak woman skilled at winning people's hearts... Because you're uncertain, you're unwilling to act rashly and instead want to probe indirectly. If I really am just a 'paper tiger,' then naturally you can mold me into whatever you want."

"Unfortunately... although my eyes are useless, my ears can hear farther than most people." Yashiro placed one hand on her cane, and the smile on her face finally became more genuine, no longer the insincere polite smile from before.

"you--"

Tsukahara Takehira's expression changed repeatedly. His disguise had been torn off by Yashiro just now. He was both angry and anxious. Before he could say a word, he laughed angrily, "Fine, fine! I've long heard that blind people have better hearing than ordinary people. Today I've seen it for myself. But even with this keen hearing, you're still going to lose your life here today!"

"My life is insignificant, but Lord Wuping, why don't you worry about yourself?"

"Oh? Why should I worry about myself?" Tsukahara Takehira sneered.

"As the son of Lord Bu Chuan, you do not cherish your reputation or care about your family's honor. Instead, you associate with such despicable scoundrels, ruining the name of your ancestors. This is the first point. As an uncle, you want to collude with outsiders to murder your own niece. You are heartless and ungrateful, and this is the second point. Lord Wuping, your many unjust deeds will surely invite divine retribution."

"Divine retribution? Hahahaha! All I see is white clouds and blue sky, and three talking corpses. Divine retribution? What divine retribution?"

After dropping the pretense, Tsukahara Takehira seemed to return to that night four years ago under the sacred tree. "Back then, that girl Ryuko saved you. Now that she's gone, you're starting to expect some kind of divine retribution? It's laughable!"

"You have eyes but no vision, you have eyes but no eyes to see, Lord Wuping, it turns out you are blind too."

"what?!"

"Isn't this what they call divine retribution?"

Yashiro raised his hand and gently patted his cane. He still had a smile on his face, but the corners of his mouth were tightly pursed. "The net of heaven is vast, and though its meshes are wide, nothing escapes it. And sometimes, the wrath of the gods can be manifested through human power... For example, right now."

"You want to kill me?" Tsukahara Takehira finally realized.

"Do you think... this little woman can't kill you?" Yashiro asked softly.

"Ha...hahahahaha! You want to kill me, you want to kill me! This is truly the most ridiculous joke I've ever heard in my life!"

Looking at the presumptuous, boastful little blind boy before him, he felt as if he were witnessing the most ridiculous sight in the world. He burst into laughter, then patted his own neck, "Come on, come on, here's a fine head right here. If you have the guts, come on—"

The words have not yet fallen.

It was as if a gentle breeze had brushed against his face, leaving a barely perceptible coolness on his neck.

The next second, Tsukahara Takehira felt as if the scenery before him had suddenly risen much higher, and then, in a dizzying spin, he abruptly fell back into darkness...

boom!

With a muffled thud, a head fell to the ground!

A mocking smile still lingered on his lips. On the other side, Yashiro, who had somehow appeared behind the headless body, slowly sheathed his narrow sword back into his staff.

"Since Lord Wuping is so generous, then... I shall respectfully accept your offer."

she said with a smile.

Tsukahara Takehira's head rolled at her feet, his mouth opening and closing, repeating the last words he hadn't had time to say: "Come and get... come and get... get... get... get..."

……

Chapter 89 If You Do Not Abandon Me

The most astonishing sword strike, the most breathtaking scene.

In Zaemon's mind, this blind female musician named Yashiro was indeed a rather peculiar character:

It's not that she's peculiar because she likes to be unconventional, eccentric, or violent and bloodthirsty, and that she only likes to kill in her dreams. On the contrary, from morning till night, whether she's eating or traveling, Hachihiro always has a carefree and leisurely demeanor. To put it nicely, she's optimistic and accepting of her fate; to put it bluntly, she's heartless and carefree.

Normally it would be fine, but even when the three of them were surrounded by a group of fierce-looking samurai and were about to die on the spot, or even suffer a fate worse than death, Zaemon still couldn't find the slightest fear on the woman's face...

Until he heard that soft laugh, saw the sword flash briefly in the staff, and then saw the head roll to the ground, he finally understood. It turned out that Yashiro wasn't heartless; she genuinely hadn't taken this whole affair to heart.

"Wh...monster, monster!"

"Don't come any closer, don't go any further... Quack!"

"Help! Mom, help me... Waaaaah!"

Zaemon stood there blankly, shoulder to shoulder with his younger brother, watching those wild samurai who had been so arrogant and rampant just moments before, now terrified by the death of Tsukahara Takehira, howling and swarming like flies, but often they hadn't gone more than a few steps before the blind girl caught up with them and stabbed them to the ground with her sword.

Blood flowed everywhere.

The bloodstains on the sword had dried.

Yashiro sat down in the open space outside the house, holding his cane. He took out his small gourd that held wine, took a sip to moisten his throat, and then turned the gourd over, spilling the remaining turbid wine onto the ground. The wine seeped into the soil and mixed with the winding blood, making them indistinguishable.

"The road to the underworld is long, so please have some wine to warm yourselves up and avoid catching a cold," she said softly.

Hearing this, Zaemon paused for a moment, then glanced at the unseeing eyes of the dead samurai, hesitating to speak: "Miss Yashiro..."

"kindness?"

"You...you're actually a pretty nice person."

“People often say that,” Yashiro said with a smile.

"..."

Another silence fell. When he came to his senses, Zaemon's gaze was already fixed on the severed head. Even though he didn't recognize the person, the surname Tsukahara alone was enough to spark his imagination.

Coupled with the attitude displayed by those savage samurai earlier, the fact that these uncouth fellows didn't dare to get angry even after being reprimanded to his face speaks volumes. Regardless of this person's identity, it's safe to say he's some important figure…

However, he died just like that.

His wide-open eyes showed no fear, and his expression remained one of extreme arrogance and disdain. Presumably, as he pounded his neck and shouted, "My fine head is here," he never actually imagined that his head would be so easily taken away...

Recalling their less-than-friendly first encounter, Zaemon felt a chill run down his spine. He hesitated for a moment, then, unable to resist his curiosity, asked, "Yashiro-san... why didn't you kill us back then?"

"Did you want to kill me back then?" Yashiro asked rhetorically.

"No, I don't want to..."

"So what? You're only after my money, why would I want to kill you?"

"This...is like this..."

Zaemon seemed to have caught his younger brother's stutter; he hadn't been able to utter a single complete sentence fluently since earlier. He wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and exchanged a knowing glance with Uemon, understanding that the other was probably thinking the same thing:

It turns out that being a little timid has its advantages.

At least they're still alive, aren't they?

"Speaking of which... a few ronin are one thing, but this guy seems pretty impressive. Is it really... alright to kill him like this? And he even seems to know you, Miss Yashiro... Of course, I'm not trying to find out anything, nor do I mean to question you, it's just..."

"Ugh……"

Hearing his cautious and apprehensive tone, Yashiro couldn't help but shake his head and sigh, half-jokingly, "I thought we were already friends."

"Uh..." Zaemon didn't know how to answer for a moment. It wasn't that he was really scared or anything like that, but it was the first time in his life that he had encountered such a ruthless character who killed people like chickens. If the other party was a burly man, it would be fine, but the sight of a little blind boy chasing several wild samurai with a sword until they were crying and begging for their mothers was just too shocking. So much so that he couldn't come back to his senses for a moment and subconsciously switched to a half-hearted respectful tone.

Now, having been brought up like that, he realized his mistake and wanted to correct it, but couldn't find an opportunity. Fortunately, the woman didn't dwell on the topic. As she tied the gourd back to her waist, she seemed thoughtful: "Indeed... killing someone else's son, both morally and logically, I should have reported it to the old man. Ah You, Ah You!"

She called out twice, and Uemon rushed over in a panic: "W-What is it?"

"Write a letter for me."

It's somewhat strange, but although the two brothers' father was an ordinary farmer in Uchida Village, he always considered himself a descendant of samurai. To this end, he once asked someone to find a way to send the two brothers to a nearby temple, where they studied culture with the monks for a period of time.

Zaemon didn't study very seriously, spending his days running wild and playing. But his younger brother, Uemon, had a stutter since childhood, so he studied very diligently, hoping that one day he could communicate fluently with those around him using his pen instead of his mouth. He did learn, but unfortunately, he never had a chance to use his skills.

Because none of the people around me are literate.

I thought it was ultimately a skill for slaying dragons, but after getting to know Yashiro, it unexpectedly came in handy again.

The woman was blind and had difficulty writing, so she would ask him to write letters for her whenever she needed to, which was one of the few things that made Uemon proud.

The pen, ink, and paper were all provided by Yashiro himself, stored in that small bundle. He opened it and took them out. Uemon lay sprawled on a rock, intently gripping the pen, waiting for Yashiro to speak so he could write whatever he wanted: "Grandpa, greetings... Oh no, the format is wrong..."

After a slight hesitation, Uemon crossed out the first character he had just written.

"Lord Bu Chuan? No, that won't do either, too distant."

Then cover up the character "卜" as well.

"...Grandpa Bu Chuan, it's like seeing you again after reading this letter. Several years have passed since we last met. I wonder how you are doing and I miss you very much..."

Having finally settled on the wording of the opening, Yashiro continued cautiously, "I happened to be passing through the area recently and thought I'd come back to see you and Tatsuko, but fate had other plans... and so on and so forth, in the end I had no choice but to kill your son..."

"H-Hachiko-san, isn't it a bit inappropriate to be so direct?" Zaemon, who had been listening without interrupting, finally couldn't hold back when he heard the last sentence.

Yashiro tilted her head: "It seems so... So how should I put it, that I killed your son?"

“I don’t think it’s a matter of order…” Zaemon said helplessly.

At this moment, Uemon looked up: "Do I...do I need to revise it? But I've already...already finished writing it..."

"If you've finished writing, then don't change it. Just keep writing."

Yashiro waved her hand, then rambled on for a few more minutes until Uemon reminded her that the letter paper was full, at which point she stopped. But then she wondered, "Is there no room left already? I remember the paper was quite large..."

"I... I accidentally misspelled some words." Uemon lowered his head, looking quite ashamed.

"It's alright, it's alright. Holding a pen and holding a sword are the same principle, you'll get better with practice."

Yashiro smiled and said, then took the letter, blew on it to dry it, and carefully folded it before handing it to Saemon. "Saemon, Saemon, I'll trouble you two to make this trip and deliver this letter to Kashima Shrine. Remember to give it to Master Tsukahara Bokuden, and don't let anyone else get it."

"Tsuka... Tsukahara Bokuden?" Even though he was somewhat prepared, Zaemon was still startled when he actually heard the name. "Yashiro-san, is this letter you wrote to that... Kashima Sword Saint?"

"Yes. Didn't it already mention that at the beginning of the letter?"

"So... that guy named Wu Ping from earlier is the Sword Saint's son?"

"Correct."

"You killed the Sword Saint's son, and then you send us to deliver a message to him?" When he asked this, Zaemon almost burst into tears. Wasn't this tantamount to sending them to their deaths?!

"Yes, so what? You two are too scared to go?"

Yashiro didn't explain, but just smiled and asked in return.

"..."

Even though he knew she was trying to provoke him, Zaemon couldn't help but feel annoyed. However, while he was still weighing the pros and cons, his younger brother, Uemon, was one step ahead and reached out to take the letter: "I... I'll go deliver the letter."

"Younger brother?" He was taken aback when he heard this, and turned his head to meet Uemon's clear eyes, which were full of determination.

"Miss Hachisuke, you just saved one...one of our lives. Even if I'm killed, I must deliver this letter." He hesitated twice, making the sentence quite difficult to say. But his will remained unwavering.

Zaemon closed his eyes.

When she opened her eyes again, she laughed.

"Alright, let's do as Miss Yashiro says, let's go together."

“Yeah… Yeah!”

After making their decision, the two brothers did not hesitate any longer—perhaps fearing that if they delayed any longer they would change their minds again—and after bidding farewell to Yashiro, they set off for Kashima Shrine with the letter in hand and a tragic heart filled with the thought of going through fire and water.

Only when their footsteps had completely faded away and disappeared did Yashiro lazily stretch and stand up unsteadily.

“…That’s good.” she said softly.

Although she felt somewhat regretful that she couldn't meet Tsukahara Bokuden in person, even with a legitimate reason, she had still killed the son he had raised with great care for decades, so it was better not to meet him for the time being.

Fortunately, she remembered that the old man was supposed to live to be 1570, so there was still a long time to go and no need to rush.

As for Saemon and Saemon, as long as they obediently deliver the letter, Tsukahara Bokuden believes she will understand her meaning and arrange any job for them, so they won't have to be so desperate and "starving" that they have to run away to become bandits...

"Sigh, after doing good deeds, even the red scarf seems brighter..."

Yashiro smiled and shook her head, tapped her cane, and walked forward—the Kashima Shrine would definitely send people to deal with these corpses later, so there was no need for a weak woman like her to bother to help bury them.

"Speaking of which, these people seem to be from Tōtōmi. Tōtōmi, Tōtōmi... Speaking of Tōtōmi, I suddenly miss Hatsume and Master Jirō. Perfect timing, I'll go to Tōtōmi next, and while I'm there, I'll also visit Master Mankisai and pay my respects at the graves of Mr. Aota and Ms. Shizu..."