Yashiro the Blind

In the blink of an eye, within the few moments of her thoughts arising and falling, the aura of the person before her suddenly changed. If the feeling she had experienced before was like a sudden gust of wind, unpredictable and ever-changing, then at this moment, Jiro-hoshi felt as if she were seeing the sky.

A clear, high-reaching sky...

Her heart suddenly started racing, her scalp tingled, and her hair stood on end. An extremely unfamiliar feeling washed over her. After a few moments, the woman realized that this feeling was the primal human instinct: the fear of death.

She still couldn't sense any killing intent from Yashiro, but a voice inside her was frantically warning her that if she couldn't withstand the sword strike that was about to land... she would die.

Tragic death!

The moment Jiro realized this, he felt his mouth go dry and a sense of utter absurdity washed over him.

why?

Questions filled her mind, but she had no time to seek answers. She gripped the spear tightly, so tightly that her knuckles turned pale and lost all color. Her eyes were fixed on the masked figure, watching as he slowly placed his hand on the head of the staff and leaned forward slightly.

ready.

……Why?

Had he done something wrong? Had he offended Yashiro in some way, or...? A brief blankness appeared in his mind, and within that blankness, all sorts of chaotic thoughts rose and fell. Jiro closed his eyes.

With the qi locked in place, that "sky" became increasingly clear.

No… I can’t just sit here and wait to die, I have to fight back… In the depths of my dazed mind, only the will to survive surged forth, overwhelming everything else. When she opened her eyes again, she saw a figure ten steps away, a long, narrow sword about to be drawn…

The shadow of death looms large!

Why……

Filled with confusion and bewilderment, and perhaps even a hint of grievance, Jiro, clinging to the slightest possibility, thrust out with her crimson spear—this might be the first time in her twenty-odd years of life that she had ever given her all without reservation.

For a fleeting moment, the woman seemed to hear the mournful cry of the weapon in her hand. The spear trembled violently between her fingers, as if it had transformed into a red dragon, baring its fangs and claws, crashing into the high and ethereal sky!

……

The heavens are too high to fathom.

Even though this was what Jiro-hoshi considered his most triumphant and exhilarating strike of his life, it still failed to hit "Sky." She could only watch helplessly as the tip of the spear flicked up the fire man's mask, easily shattering it. However, before she could even see the face beneath the mask and witness Yashiro's expression, she felt a chill and a sharp pain on her neck...

The flame of life was rapidly fading from his body. Jiro's eyes widened in astonishment. He had actually... died just like that? He didn't even know why, he didn't even have time to ask a question... and he was dead?

Only the field of vision continues to rise.

The surrounding scenery changed accordingly; the hazy night gradually brightened, and the warm sunlight carried a slightly ethereal quality. Whether it was a hallucination before her death or not, she seemed to see other scenes in this illusory sunlight:

“…I’m sorry.”

It seems like a long, long time ago. At that time, the young Ii Naomori was sitting cross-legged in the room, and opposite him sat a little girl. Although her face was full of childishness, the girl sat up straight with a meticulous posture, her hands clenched into small fists and placed neatly on her knees.

“Father,” the girl called softly, “you don’t need to apologize.”

“No, I must apologize.” Young Ii Naomori said, then sighed, and reached out his rough hand to rub the girl’s head hard, his expression full of reluctance. “I’m sorry, because we adults are so useless, you have to bear responsibilities and sacrifices that are not yours at such a young age.”

The girl shook her head vigorously: "No, I am also a member of the Ii family, this is my responsibility."

"It's best that you think that way... Well, since that's the case, when Monk Nanxi comes tomorrow, you should go and become a nun with him."

"Yes."

The girl answered respectfully.

When did this happen?

Oh, I remember now... When she was six years old, a huge upheaval occurred in the Ii clan. Her uncle, Ii Naomatsu, was framed by a treacherous minister and ordered to commit suicide by his lord, Imagawa Yoshimoto, on charges of treason. Not only that, he also ordered that Naomatsu's son, the young Ii Kame no Jo, be killed as well, to eliminate any future troubles.

Unable to bear seeing the lineage of Ii Naomori die out, the head of the family, Ii Naomori, outwardly obeyed orders while secretly sending his subordinates to help Kame no Jo escape from Tōtōmi. In order to gain Yoshimoto's trust and make the act more convincing, he even had his daughter, who was already engaged to Kame no Jo, shave her head and become a nun, essentially keeping her fiancé a widow for life in this way.

In this way, although he successfully deceived Yiyuan, he also ruined his daughter's life. From then on, she was confined to a life of meditation and Buddhism. As long as the lie was not exposed, his daughter would never be able to marry and have children like an ordinary person and live a peaceful and stable life.

Ii Naomori felt deeply guilty about this, and it was precisely because of this guilt that he didn't see his daughter much for the next ten years. Even though Ryutaiji Temple was nearby, the father and daughter rarely interacted. When they did meet, they would hesitate to speak, and Naomori felt even more guilty as he watched Jiro grow more mature and beautiful each year.

Jiro, seeing this, would always try to persuade him: "Father, please don't look like that. I'm very satisfied with my life now, and I've never blamed or resented anyone..."

"really?"

“Of course it’s true, monks don’t lie.” After she said that, Ii Naomori’s furrowed brows would relax, and he would smile as if he had breathed a sigh of relief.

"--Really?"

But at this moment, as another voice asked the same question, Jiro could no longer nod and say yes as readily as before.

Because... it's her own voice.

"Have you never blamed or hated anyone? Why can other girls your age play carefree, wear pretty clothes, and happily sing while bouncing a ball, while you have to put on monk's robes early and live an endless life of practice in a temple day after day?"

"I……"

Why did this have to happen to you?

The scenes keep changing, those are countless days and nights of blood and sweat, practicing on the training field until the hands and feet ache, being loudly reprimanded by Zen Master Nanxi, sparring with the monks of the temple and being beaten until the whole body is covered in bruises, wanting to complain to the father and mother, but only able to curl up in bed alone in the middle of the night, sketching the image of the two of them and their embrace in the mind...

For the sake of the people of her territory, she took the mask of the Dragon Palace Child from Nanxi, and thus took on a heavy responsibility... She still remembers the scene of her first battle with the enemy, her first injury, her first killing, the trepidation, the fear, and the indescribable sorrow that welled up from the depths of her heart... There was no one around to confide in.

Why……

Why did this have to happen to me...?

News of her father's crushing defeat at Okehazama and his death reached her. At the funeral, her mother nearly fainted from crying, and other relatives and retainers were also wiping away tears. She knew she should cry along with them, but she couldn't shed a single tear. The gazes around her gradually turned cold, and gossip pierced her like knives from behind. She wanted to defend herself, but she didn't know what to say...

"...If I told you that I knew long ago that Daisuke Jibu would die at Okehazama, and that your father would also perish, but I never said a word to warn him..."

The scene changed again, and I heard Yashiro's words once more.

No, this is a lie... Yashiro couldn't possibly have known all this beforehand, but that brocade pouch... even if she knew, as an outsider, the other party had no obligation to warn her, but... but that was her father... her only father in this world!

"Master, what are your thoughts?"

The words are still fresh in my mind.

Jiro, suppressing a certain emotion within her, forced a smile and hastily steered the conversation away. Even she herself didn't know what that emotion was; she simply suppressed it subconsciously, unwilling to let it surface…

……

The ever-rising world finally reached its peak, paused briefly, and then began its frantic descent. Yes, she was dead, dead inexplicably, without even a last word… How unwilling she was. If only she had known… if only she had known it would turn out this way, she would have…

Rather than...

……

Click.

A soft sound came from beside my ear.

As if he had just woken up from an incredibly long dream, Jiro opened his eyes in astonishment. Before him was the familiar night sky he was used to seeing. Yashiro stood ten steps away, not moving an inch. His sword was still sheathed in his cane, and the fingers that had been gripping the hilt of the sword had been released one by one.

She stood there for a few seconds, then hesitantly raised her hand and touched her throat.

His head was still intact on his neck.

"Was that just now... a hallucination?"

The voice, filled with surprise and uncertainty, sounded extremely hoarse, no less so than the cawing of a crow.

The next moment, Jiro noticed the cracking sound again. This time he heard it clearly. It was the mask on Yashiro's face that started to crack from the middle and finally broke apart, revealing a face that looked more childish than her actual age.

A line of blood trickled down her smooth forehead.

Although the opponent's sword strike was an illusion, her spear strike in response was real.

Ten paces away, the gust of wind whipped up by the spear not only shattered her mask but also wounded Yashiro's skin... Looking at the blood, she took a few steps forward, somewhat helplessly: "You...you're injured..."

"Shhh."

But then Yashiro extended her index finger, touched it lightly to her lips, and then surprisingly let go of her cane, staggering as she walked towards her.

Jiro was momentarily at a loss for what to do, unsure whether to advance or retreat. He simply stared blankly as the figure, a head shorter than himself, slowly approached, raised his hands, and gently embraced her.

Because of her slender build, the embrace seemed unreliable. After being exposed to the cool breeze all night, her clothes and exposed skin were chilly and damp with sweat. But for some reason, feeling the breath so close to her, the woman inexplicably felt a long-lost warmth.

A lump formed in her throat, and the emotions she had been suppressing resurfaced in her heart.

This time, perhaps influenced by the near-death experience he had just had, Jiro did not choose to ignore it as he had done before, but instead allowed this unfamiliar emotion to fill his heart.

She rested her chin on Yashiro's shoulder, sniffed, and a moment later, surrounded by Mingyue and the crow, this tall woman, described by others as mature and reliable, was held in someone's arms and, somewhat awkwardly, cried softly...

……

Chapter 107 The Mage and Ayong

The crows have flown away, leaving only a bright moon hanging high in the sky.

When describing the moon's radiance, most people would instinctively choose words like "bright," "dim," "pale," or "pure," and Yashiro used to do the same. But since her transmigration, she has slowly begun to use some other, more peculiar descriptions:

“Cold,” “warm,” “hard,” “soft”… words that seem to have nothing to do with the moon at first glance are actually her most genuine feelings.

For example, right now, the moonlight falling on her is light and airy, somewhat like a freshly steamed sponge cake, fluffy and soft, incredibly delicious. As this long-lost delicacy comes to mind, Yashiro seems to smell that sweet aroma once again... Of course, this is just an illusion.

The aroma lingering at my nose didn't originate from the pastries I remembered, but from the person beside me. The usual delicate fragrance of tea was now tinged with the stench of blood from the recent carnage. Stillness and movement, life and death, all returned to tranquility under the bright moonlight.

Yashiro had always loved Jiro's scent. It had remained unchanged for years, just as it had when they first met. It was as if simply being by his side could put one at ease. If she weren't afraid of being seen as a pervert, she would have even wanted to pounce on him, hug him, and bury her face in his chest to enjoy the scent.

Just like petting a cat.

If it were Hatsune or Ryuko, she wouldn't have so many reservations. She would just hug them if she wanted to. Even if it were Mai, who never had a good attitude, she would still pounce on her without hesitation. At worst, she would get a few words of nagging and a flick on the head, which wouldn't hurt her at all.

However, Yashiro never dared to act rashly towards Jiro, who possessed a gentle yet somewhat aloof nature.

Therefore, although she and Jiro had known each other for many years, their relationship was exactly as described in the saying "a gentleman's friendship is as light as water," with virtually no opportunity for intimate contact. This was worlds apart from that of Ryuko, who shared a bed with her, and Hatsume, who always liked to cling to her—they were simply incomparable.

Therefore.

This readily available warmth is what makes her restless and at a loss.

"Master Mage..."

"Hmm? Am I making you uncomfortable?" As she spoke, the person leaning on her shoulder shifted slightly. "Sorry, I'll get up right away..."

Noticing that the other person was about to get up, Yashiro quickly said, "It's okay, I don't feel uncomfortable at all."

She could have simply replied "comfortable," but something felt off, so she went around in circles, making her statement particularly roundabout.

"Oh, then... let me lean on it a little longer."

The woman closed her eyes, her voice still nasal from crying. Then she slightly curled up her arms and legs, like a large cat that had lost its claws and teeth, and obediently leaned against Yashiro.

The two were sitting under a big tree, their heads close together and shoulders touching. Their soft breaths occasionally brushed against Yashiro's neck, making her feel ticklish. She wanted to sway her body, but she was afraid of causing any more misunderstandings, so she remained motionless.

The moonlight was soft, but even softer than its glow was the woman's tall figure hidden beneath her monk's robes. Normally, the large robes concealed her, so it wasn't noticeable, but now, nestled together, Hachishiro truly felt the weight of something…

As the saying goes, "After visiting the Five Sacred Mountains, one need not see any other mountains; after visiting Huangshan, one need not see any other of the Five Sacred Mountains."

This is what it means.

For a moment she didn't know what to say, so she simply remained silent. Jiro-sama did the same, but even though the two of them were silent, the atmosphere was not awkward at all. It was like a still pond, without waves or wind, with the reflection of mountains and rivers in it.

All that could be heard was the sound of mountain winds and the chirping of insects. The woman beside him seemed to be beating a little faster than usual. Yashiro, holding his cane and leaning against the tree trunk, felt a warm glow inside even though there was no campfire, and a smile involuntarily appeared on his face.

“Benefactor Ba Xun…”

"kindness?"

"Does the wound on your forehead still hurt?"

"It doesn't hurt anymore."

"That's good. I just gave you a quick treatment. The wound is shallow, so it shouldn't leave a scar... I'm sorry to have troubled you." The woman said softly, feeling a little shy as she recalled how the other person had hugged her and cried.

People say that there is great terror between life and death. After experiencing that seemingly real but actually illusory decapitation sword, her mind seemed to have suddenly become more open. Some things and emotions that were originally weighing heavily on her heart seemed to have been cut off by that sword. After crying, she felt refreshed.

She even did something she would never normally do, something that seemed like she was being affectionate with Yashiro.

It felt...surprisingly pretty good.

"I finally understand why Hatsune always likes to lean on you."

"If you'd like, Master, I'm always ready to accompany you." Thinking the other party was joking, Yashiro replied with a smile.

"Okay, it's a deal."

"……Why?"

"hehe."

Even the laughter seemed to have been moistened by the night dew.

After a moment of silence, Jiro began to speak again, recounting her experiences over the past twenty years: how she became engaged to someone else, how her fiancé was targeted and wanted by Imagawa Yoshimoto, how her father forced her to become a nun in order to deceive Imagawa Yoshimoto, and how she later practiced asceticism day and night in the temple…

Some of these were things Yashiro already knew, while others were things she was hearing for the first time. But no matter what they were, she listened quietly without saying a word. Yashiro had been a good listener in her previous life, and she had become even better at it after becoming blind in this life.