A New Truth[IO]

Despite his new found rank and fortune, Hayato was not well. He had been holed up in his new manor in the middle of the village for a while now. His mother even though she was older and uncharacteristically frail, had mustered the energy to kick him out of the house. She said the fresh air would do him some good. He hadn't told her the details, but it seemed like she knew. He reluctantly shuffled out of the house not willing to don his armor he settled for his navy ronin robes left a bit too open. He took his cursed creation and the faithful wakazashi with him as a force of habit, but left the rest of his gear behind. Hayato should be happy his training had helped him get rid of Tanbo's enemy. He had won a large sum of money and bought a safe place for his mother to dwell. She no longer had to work much, and he had been recognized by the village for his service. 

Still, the thumbs up of a dying man called into question all that he had been working towards. The scenes of battle, the red flowing down the river, the lashing out in futility, the past stained his mind. He decided to go to Okada castle. With his new found rank he was allowed inside no questions asked. He didn't know what he was looking for but he was looking for something. Anything he could use that would make his guilt go away. He descended to the castles lower levels. There was a trove of old scrolls and books here. A collection of the villages secrets, and pasts. They were unorganized despite Hayato hearing of such an effort in the past. The collection could have ancient knowledge or be ledgers from the small farming village that once stood here. Hayato didn't know what he would find, but a bit of new reading material would be nice. Something to take his mind off of the past events. Maybe the monk left something here as well... The training the monk of the scroll had passed down through his text had served Hayato well. Too well. His body was faster than his opponents. He was stronger, more resilient, and more prepared. He had valued those teaching. The words and techniques that made him strong, but now he wanted something gentler. A mantra for letting the dead find peace was the first scroll he picked up. 

He unfurled it and read it to himself hope those he'd dammed and those who he would dam would find peace. The tears welled up before he mad e it halfway through.

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WC:446

When one wonders of the wanderings of wisps, they often find themselves ahead of their feet. Their mind distant, chasing after the lights, spirit rejuvenated with that of discovery and curiosity. Despite such a feeling....if you loose track of where you are going, it is too easy to discover the swamp has already taken ahold of you. These were the thoughts that had been passing through Asahi Yagami's mind as of late. Of the many things that occurred around him, and the many things that had occurred and yet he was unaware. His sight set on the lights in the trees, and his feet deep within a quagmire.

He had fought a great evil, and through perhaps luck he had come out on top. Never once did he question whether the difference was skill or circumstance. The situation could have went a thousand ways and yet it found the one way that would see him ending as the victor. However, with such a victory those powers that were greater begin to take notice. An amateur of swordplay can only get so good, before the masters come calling to put them back in their place. This was how he felt presently, and rather than to be found lacking, he sought a whetstone to sharpen if not his blade than his mind.

For that reason, he had delved deep beneath Okada castle, a reliquary of scrolls and ledgers abound. Through here he had discovered many things, some interesting and some not so much. It had helped him unravel some of the stories of the lion dog statue and the cement element that had become, pardon the pun, a cornerstone of the place. Okada itself he had discovered was woven with much of this element. It functioned as a sealing technique, and it explained the precense of spirits that should not be able to touch yet here they were. It also explained why while he was within the walls, especially deep within them like now, the evil spirit could not be felt. The only place where he truly could breathe without the eyes of a predator on his back.

Most of the time he found himself alone down here. A few times Yamato had accompanied him, and they had done their own research throughout the place, yet in truth he had no qualms with just being alone. After all, in an old place like this....one is never truly alone.

The corners of his eyes would often catch the incorporeal shapes of spirits trapped here. Many just performing routines they would have in life, little knowledge or understanding of their current ghostly predicament. He left them well enough alone, and they in turn ignored him. He was convinced however, there was a poltergeist esq entity around as more than once a book had fallen to thunk him hard on the top of his head in a crucial moment. Still, it was all part of it wasn't it?

Now however, a different realm of study. He'd gathered several old tomes each pointing to different areas in which he might take. An old skill, older techniques that had been used by the Samurai of the land to combat those entities who did not worry of their physical bodies. There was one clan in particular that had been most notable for breeding horses, a samurai clan that had migrated from the Land of Iron and had been one of the first families to mount an offensive against that which bumps in the night as they say. Among the ledgers a detailed list of what he could find on them also was there. It was a mess, but it was his mess to work through.

Along with all of this, was his normal equipment. His blade the Onimaru, finely fashioned rested against a wall. The Bashosen, a powerful relic that he had been gifted likewise was propped up. He wore black Hakama pants, though the top part of his formal Komekage robes and hat lay in a sprawl near his weaponry. Though he lacked a top piece of garment, he was not naked from the waist up. Instead his torso was covered in fine linen, though black ink smears had started to seep through, letters almost able to be made up scrawled clearly on their inside. His pale skin showed signs of these ink stains where the linen had started to come loose from its tight bindings. Hair pulled up into an elaborate topknot. He had just started pouring a cup of tea when he heard something. Initially brushing it off as one of his friendly spirits, he started again when what sounded like a catching of breath was heard. Certainly not that of a ghost.

Moving across the large room, he eventually found a livelier companion, "I found, they got that bit wrong. That books is more for the living, this one...." He would reach and seemingly pull a book from thin air, "Gets it a bit more right." He would smile warmly, handing the book over, his eyes moving everywhere but into Hayato's. He gave him the chance, the chance to reveal his emotions or hide them. The choice was his, and he would not take such a delicate thing away from him.

TWC - 877