THE LEGENDARY SAMURAI, KOBAYASHI
a samurai wishes to be legendary, unaware of the consequences his desire may bring. about 20 pages in normal format. written by jan van gouden.
The sorcerer Harvester seemed fated to unusual circumstancesâ the offspring of a demoness and a ghost, he was born with many hands, which he attempted to conceal under even more layers of clothes. The demoness and the ghost could not care for him, so they placed him in the care of the ghostâs sister, who was still alive and ecstatic to have received this sign from her dearly departed brother.
The ghostâs sister was an elderly woman at this time. Although she fought for the first fifteen or so years of the boyâs life to place him in a good school and to provide him with a good home, she could not fight Death. Death came to her in the form of a heart attack one sunny Sunday morning, leaving poor Many-Hands all alone.
Without her fiery defense and adamant inquiries to teachers as to his well-being, Many-Hands faced hard times in his school. Now, not so much worrying about teachersâ scolding, he was bullied for his appearance and his meek personality, which did not at all help him. He found himself truly alone⌠one night, as he cried himself to sleep, he heard a knocking at the door of the house which had been left to him. Unbeknownst to him, it was his original parentsâ at the doorstep, he found a book of sorcery, and a note claiming it was a gift, for his protection.
The demoness hoped to see Many-Hands become a cunning, powerful sorcerer, as she once had been, but he did not meet her expectations⌠He only wished to use these newfound powers for good, and attempted nobly to make peace with his classmates, desperately offering them his powers in their favour, wanting, or maybe thinking he needed, to grant them wishes.
This plan backfiredâ a classmate who wished for fame got it, and was so overwhelmed and hated for it that it drove him to his grave within months. Another classmate wished for wealth but to attain it, his parents shot one another, and he was orphaned, left with their inheritance. It seemed no matter how badly Many-Hands wanted the wishes to go well, they only ended very badly, unless they were quite simple!
However, this was enough to catch the attention of the village elders. Claiming he only brought shame upon the spirit of their dearly deceased friend who had been kind enough to raise him, they chased Many-Hands out with scorn, daring him to ever try to return. Of course he put up no fight, and left, like the dog whimpering with its tail between its legs.
Into his adulthood, Many-Hands wandered, a drifter, & tread, heavy-footed and dejected, out of nearly every village he hoped to find a home in. He was out every time for either his many hands, labeling him as a monster, or his magic, labeling him a wicked witch.
Hated, feared, and rejected, life weighed heavy on Many-Hands like iron chains. His parents wanted so badly to reach out and comfort him, but they also wanted, more-so, for him to be able to live a good life. They knew it would only get worse if people knew his mother was a demoness and his father, a ghost!
Emotionally burdened, Many-Hands grew weak physically and mentally, and when Winter came around again with her icy laugh and her cold snow, he decided he could brave her no more. He fell at some point, & did not get up, having neither the physical strength nor the mental will to do so. As frostbite nibbled at his toes and snow coated his lashes, his father braced himself, ready to welcome him into the spirit world.
This ghostly embrace never came to be, as a pair of blistered, but firm, hands wrapped around either of his shoulders and dragged him out of the little ditch that had formed around him. From the manâs kabuto and karuta, he could be immediately identified as a samurai, perhaps back from training or battle. After Many-Hands was hoisted from the snow, two others joined in lifting him from the ground as though he were a delicate flower, perhaps mistaking him for a woman under his heavy makeup and ornate clothing. âA pool of crimson blood of resting upon silver snow,â one commented, referring to the striking red hair belonging to the sorcerer, tied into two twin-knots atop his head, embellished with golden hairpins. One might have pegged him as a member of the upper class, but he wore only what little possessions he had saved from the woman who raised him.
Many-Hands awoke to find himself not dead, but quite alive, warmed by the gently flickering flame of a fire in what seemed to be a peasantâs hut, unassuming and of simple wood, but so familiar and homely. The moment he fully regained consciousness, his eyes flew open, startlingly yellow, & he looked around in a frenzy, his entire body relaxing when his gaze rested upon the book of sorcery, seated neatly atop a pile of manuscripts near the fireplace. He got up, and stretched, and his motion alerted the person standing outside, who rushed in and urged him to sit again, feverishly checking his forehead and feet.
With a sense of nervous relief, she laughed, seating herself by him on the bed. âWe were worried you would never wake up, traveler. Do you know your name?â
âI have never been officially granted a name, as there never was one anyone deemed to fit me, but I am called Many-Hands.â
âIâm unsurprised. You do indeed have many handsâ Iâve seen people with additional hands, even heads, before in my lifetime, but never before have I seen somebody with many hands. Perhaps they helped to keep you warm.â
âI am the onna-bugeisha Misaki of the proud Samurai village Persistent Strength, which is where you are now⌠my brothers and I found you by the edge of the woods, or on the edge of death. I hope you are not offended that we have saved you.â
âNot at all,â Many-Hands asserted, suddenly overcome with gleeâ perhaps this samurai village could be his home, & he at last would no longer have to drift in a murk, leaving himself to the mercy of mother nature and her elements, which could be so cruel. Immediately, without even thinking of his words, he offered, âMay I grant you a wish? As you may have noticed from my text, I am a sorcerer, and I am duty-bound to bring joy and pleasure to those who turn to me a kind hand.â And those who turn to me a cruel hand, he thought bitterly, wondering if in the past his kindness had been wasted.
Before Misaki could speak, he put a hand over his mouth and a hand up to her, prompting her silence, as he deliberated. âHowever⌠please be aware, that I can only grant one wish annuallyâŚâ I do not wish to be used for only wishes; I want to be appreciated for more than this lousy magic! â...and your wish cannot be extreme, or else it will have dire consequences⌠if you wish for wealth, you may as well wish for death, and if you wish for love, you may as well wish for hatred. I can only grant simple wishes, and I am only a very simple sorcerer.â A lie, for his convenience and hersâ Many-Hands was indeed quite capable in the world of sorcery, but he did not wish for power, so he chose to ignore the vast majority of his capabilities, in favour of living a ânormalâ life.
Somewhere in the other world, his demoness mother tore out her hair at the knowledge he could have Japan in his pocket if he so desired!
Misaki laughed a bit, but not at all in a condescending manner. âA simple person such as myself has no extreme wishes, I donât think⌠fine. I will test your magic, sorcerer. I wish for⌠a kitten. I would love to have a kitten to nurture as my own.â
And lo, the next day, an ambling stray kitten stumbled into Misakiâs home, and spun around her, greeted immediately with affection. Misaki rushed, with the cat, to the hut in which Many-Hands recovered, laughing. âHow wonderful, this power of yours⌠I cannot think of anything better I could have exhausted my annual wish on, as I can care for this cat all its life!â She placed a tender kiss upon the creatureâs head, then extended it for Many-Hands to pet, who politely declined, afraid he would kill it with his touch. âWhat can I do to thank you?â she proclaimed, seeming to forget that it was his gesture of thanks to begin with. Still, he responded to her, after taking a long sip from the tea that had been graciously brought to him earlier.
âYou may tell your brothers, and every other member of this fine village, that they may come to me with a wish⌠please take care to outline to them the conditions of these wishes, as I do not want anything harmful to come their way.â Many-Hands bit his lip and Misaki knew she needed to ask no more, his worrisome expression telling his story much more quickly and effectively than words could ever hope to achieve.
âI will tell them,â she said enthusiastically, seemingly convinced of his magic simply by the coming of the strayâ but Many-Hands could tell from the fine lines of wisdom and hardship etched into her face, in spite of her age, that she was far more intelligent than that, and likely saw this as a win-none lose-none situation, in that even if not a single wish beyond hers was granted, it would do no harm, and the village might chalk him up to be a harmless madman. When she left, Many-Hands carefully read the section of his book from which he had learned his spells, wanting to make certain he did not commit a single error!
The conditions he had outlined to Misaki seemed general enough to understand, and specific enough to follow the text. Assured in his talent, he closed the book, and merely an hour or two later, Misaki came again, ushering him out onto a seat outside. Many-Hands squinted at the bright white of the sun against the snow, and realised suddenly he wore neither his usual array of robes nor his makeup, and felt quite embarrassed, but was relieved at least his many hands covered by the thick coat heâd been provided.
Ahead of him stood rows upon rows of people, enough to make anyone with even a little bit of stage fright pass out! He swallowed a lump in his throat, looking out at them⌠old faces hardened by war and hardship, young faces painted with pride and strength, and so many more. The village boasted at least three hundred some people, and surely, every one of those people had some wish they desired!
Some tried to ârepeat,â but Many-Hands recognised faces well and shooed them away with a smile. By the evening, he had at last heard every wish, and his throat was sore, but the villagers seemed in good spirits, an older fellow inviting him & some friends to his home, where he promised he would make the finest roast he ever had, for heâd wished his pig that night to be the sweetest & juiciest heâd had in his life! The offer was met by a round of giggles, as the villagers likely thought the man had poked fun at Many-Hands with his wish, and wished to embarrass him. âFarmer Muzukiâs pigs are always tough, dry, and sour,â one villager whispered, affirming the aforementioned. Many-Hands had indeed noticedâ while some of the villagers indeed asked in earnest (mostly humble wishes, overwhelmingly asking for profound strength, honour, and courage in battle), some âwishesâ had clearly been made in jest. âIf the pig tonight is indeed delicious, I might even believe in the magic of this sorcerer!â
Many-Hands got to witness the fellowâs face pale in front of his friends, as he bit into the expectedly bitter roast and was met with a juicy, sweet flavour and texture⌠his ears reddened with embarrassment as his friends laughed, but he held no resentment, laughing with them and patting Many-Hands on the shoulder. âI must say, odd fellow⌠this pig is exceptional. Iâm not as spiritual as some of my friends, and do not believe in magic⌠however, I may call you a token of luck; it seems good things have been happening ever since you stepped foot into this village!â Sheepishly, he added, âI might have asked for sweet pig every night I have it for the rest of this year, but I didnât think to...â
A week passed, and Many-Hands was able to walk on his own again, the frostbite no more than a slight tingling sensation on his feet. Luckily, it had not been so severe that anything had to be cut off, so he could still wear his favourite sandals, and his many heavy robes. A teenage samurai-in-training and scheming businessman (two in one) came running into the village at full speed at Many-Hands, and almost knocked him down. He smiled and composed himself, bowing to the sorcerer in gratitude. âSorcerer, I want to thank you for your wish⌠I donât know if you remember, but last week, I wished for my writing to finally start to sell, and this week alone, I have sold so many copies of my book, that my father finally agreed to buy woodblock suppliesâŚâ He ran away again, and Many-Hands beamed.
It seemed at last luck had caught up to him, and that his caution in granting wishes seemed so far to prosper. Not all wishes could be granted immediately, as some wishes necessitated a span of time to pass, such as wishes of a good harvest, successful battle, and so on, but it seemed those that were immediately passed so far with great success, & that the villagers smiled upon him.
Two years ambled by, seeming to the younger samurai like old men they were stuck behind, having to slow their pace to walk with them, and to the older denizens of the village like leaping tigers, sprinting by so quickly they could not fully capture the grace of their every movement. Both years saw great prosperity, as both years the denizens of Persistent Strength, at least those who initially had made serious wishes, wished for the same thing. Come the spring, those whose passion lie with farming and gardening, who had wished for flourishing crops, got their wishes granted; magnificent flowers and pearlescent cherry blossoms swayed in the wind, and fresh pink apples fell from trees like babies from a craneâs bill.
In every battle the samurai of the village had to face, they prospered and defeated their enemies so easily it became a bit of gossip. Persistent Strengthâs name had already been one imbued with the admiration of other villages & even rival warriors, but now that admiration only steeply rose, as the samurai seemed more strong and skilled than ever!
Persistent Strengthâs name came to be heard even by the Feudal Lord Yutana, who reigned over a considerably large territory of Japan. The samurai of Persistent Strength owed their loyalty to the Feudal Lord Subarashii, who Yutana had always kept a close eye on. Subarashiiâs samurai typically were decent warriors, enough to pose a threat if need be, so their victory in battle was no surprise, but with such ease, such effortlessness⌠Unlike the man with the sour pigs years before, Yutana believed in the supernatural, be it spirits, demons, dark arts, or anything of the type, and with Persistent Strengthâs sudden claim to fame, he could only fathom to pin the blame on one thing: magic!
Yutana had several elite samurai in his ranks, but amongst them there was one who he trusted like no other: the great samurai Kobayashi, always eager to please, and a childhood friend of the Feudal Lordâs, no less. Yutana knew his willingness to please was an asset rather than a burden, for if there was a suggestion given of something that may please the Feudal Lord, Kobayashi would chase after it like a feral dog. His only needed incentives were approval, and being seen as great! Indeed⌠the samurai Kobayashi, in his life, only had ever wanted to be great, to strike awe and admiration within the hearts of all those who laid eyes upon him, even if they did not know him at all.
When Yutana asked Kobayashi to go undercover into the village of Persistent Strength as an ordinary Samurai belonging to the ranks of a warlord friendly with Subarashiiâ in this case, Tanakaâ Kobayashi gladly consented and immediately went underway, only hoping that he would not encounter Tanakaâs actual samurai in his travels. This would not be a problem for him, or so he was self-assured⌠he only wanted not to cause any unnecessary bloodshed, as he was certain he could defeat an entire group of warriors! Perhaps not an entire army⌠he buried any worry in the back of his mind. Whatever. Itâs unlikely an entire army would be out on a march, anyways⌠right? To be certain, he was unfamiliar with the practices of samurai outside the ranks of Yutana, & suddenly was riddled with an uneasy dread, fearing the samurai of Persistent Strength may recognise his mannerisms were not as those of a Tanaka samurai.
As Kobayashi wandered, he felt his arrogance dwindling, so much so that when a random group of samurai walked in the distance from where he tread, he stifled a yelp and hid behind a bush, sighing in relief as they passed, then carrying on. He dared not remove his armour and helmet, too proud in his show of strength to display weakness by carrying it in his arms. However, he did eventually take off the helmet, as he washed the hair he had, secured in a top-knot, in a stream. More than his pride in his strength, Kobayashi took pride in his looks, and did not want to show up to the village disgracefully smelly and sweaty.
Without a drop of blood on him, to boot! Where was the âcoolnessâ in that?!
It took three days to walk from the Feudal Lord Yutanaâs territory to that of the Feudal Lord Subarashii, and by the edge of the territory, Kobayashi gave in and bought a horse, which he rode to his final destinationâ the village of Persistent Strength, buried deep in the woods. Outside the village, a guards-person questioned him, but without much suspicion, which eased Kobayashiâs spirits. âWhat is your name?â
âI am the samurai Kobayashi of the territory of the Lord Tanaka⌠not to impede, but I have been sent to observe whatever may be the secret behind your great success, so the Lord Tanaka may decide whether or not to talk over a potential alliance with the Lord Subarashii.â The guards-person peered at him in a suspicious way and the hairs on his neck stood up, only to subside when the other laughed. âIâm afraid our great secret is not so much a secret as a matter of great luck, but you are free to enter⌠perhaps if you encounter this âsecretâ you may get something sweet for yourself.â
Kobayashi passed him and furrowed his brow when he heard him laugh again, wondering why this âsecretâ seemed neither guarded nor treated with some higher level of respect. He inquired as to where the head of the village lived and he was guided to the retired samurai Heiwa, who pointed him in the direction of the local inn, co-owned by the now-renowned, albeit still teenaged, author whose wish for wood-block prints had been granted by Many-hands, now named Harvester. The name Harvester replaced that of Many-Hands as the villagers deemed it a better and more official name, and a symbol of sorts, symbolising the thanks the villagers had to him for granting them successful reapings, on land and in war.
âThatâs a lot you charge,â he grumbled, forking over plentiful yen to the bright-faced boy, who stifled a smug grin as he pocketed it, never revealing the real sign behind the fake one he had put up. âIâm very young, and this is a fledgling business,â he said earnestly, presuming full ownership over the inn. âI need this money for the supplies for my books, which make me the money I need to live. Life is cruel, friend.â To his bad luck and dismay, his father had, unbeknownst to him, gotten back from the village heâd visited early, and greeted him, emerging from behind the finely painted curtains, with a twist to the ear. âForgive my son, traveler; he is greedy, as any fine young man with the path of success set before him but his heart set in the wrong place. Pleaseââ He took down the false sign, revealing one of significantly less value, causing Kobayashi to sigh in relief. He grabbed some money back and handed it to the other. ââenjoy your stay. It is an honour to have one of our fine neighbour samurai visiting us⌠are you alone?â
âI was sent solo by the Lord Tanaka to observe what the great samurai of this village may have been up to so as to ensure their great glory as of latelyâ even greater than usual, that is. It was offered to bring some help, but I felt that in friendly territory, this would not be necessary, & did not want to appear mistrustful or as a threat.â
âNot at all,â the inn-keeper said with a smile. âYou are our guest⌠we may only be a village of samurai, but we are still dignified peoples, and pride ourselves on providing a comfortable home for those who are our allies.â He paused. âWhat is your name?â
âI am the samurai Kobayashi,â Kobayashi said humbly, with only a tinge of irritation in the back of his mind when he saw the inn-keeper did not react at all, as had not the guard. While it was, for now, for the best nobody knew who he was, he still wished that they did⌠he wished he were a legend amongst the denizens of Japan, his name known in every village! âEnjoy your stay; your room is upstairs, first door on the⌠left.â The inn-keeper bowed slightly to Kobayashi and Kobayashi returned the gesture, then headed to his room, well-tired after another long day of travel, and eager to rest.
The next day, after cleaning up and dressing down, Kobayashi ventured to ask the inn-keeper as to the root of the samuraiâs success, and was pointed in the direction of the onna-bugeisha Misaki, Harvesterâs closest friend. Misaki laughed at his inquiry. âHave you not heard? Our village owes its late prosperity to the great sorcerer Harvester, whose benevolence has brought us great joys. Would you like to meet him?â
Unlike his Lord, Kobayashi didnât believe entirely in things beyond the physical realm of existence, and had doubts in his mind that this all was wrought by anything outside of dumb luck, or renewed extensive training. When he met Harvester, however, the latterâs appearance alone was almost enough to make him bite his lipâ adorned in fine silks with the lustre of gold, emerald, orange topaz, and pearl, he was a sight to behold, face painted white like a ghost with stark red eyeshadow and yellow stripes running vertically through his eyes, meeting at the middle of the top of his forehead under thick bangs, which brushed off the sides into a brilliant sweep of scarlet-red hair, held up neatly in the front by kanzashi, and tied up into two distinctive, towering knots on either side. He wore large golden earrings and had notably long, sharp nails.
Kobayashi swore he saw two hands where there should not be any, but as soon as he blinked, they were gone, and he chalked it up to his imagination. Before he could even register a thought, he bowed deeply. Perhaps it was caused by the illustrious appearance of the so-called sorcerer, but he felt extremely humbled, like he was in the presence of someone of very high class. Little did he know Harvester was born from dirt; it was only thanks to the prosperity and gratitude of the villagers that he was able to dress so nicely. Harvester did not do so to inspire awe as he had in Kobayashiâ he was only an appreciator of the arts, and took great pride in his personal appearance, swearing never again to be torn and bedraggled as once he had been.
These new clothes were representative of a new life, one where he at last was loved, and could feel normal, respected amongst his peers.
He returned a slighter bow with a coy smile, fanning his face. The fan was decorated with an intricate design of a red dragon, and did nothing to make Kobayashi feel less humility. âGood day, traveler,â he politely greeted, pouring a cup of tea for his unexpected guest, ever the courteous one. Kobayashi paled when he realisedâ one hand fanned his face, one hand held a book decorated with illustrations of birds, and one hand was pouring tea. Three hands! A fourth, as one came about to flip the page of the book.
The extensive garments had disguised this abnormality before. âGood day,â Kobayashi responded shakily, twiddling awkwardly with his own hands, not sure what to do. He had felt very headstrong heading into the village, so much so that if he had known of the sorcerer, he would have planned to kidnap him, but now, he just felt awkward, like an impish teenage boy rather than a thirty-something year old, distinguished samurai. âPlease donât pay too much mind to my handsâ I have many hands, and not one of them would do harm. It is an unfortunate curse I have suffered from since birth, but I am slowly coming to peace with it.â
Kobayashi remained silent, letting Harvester do the talking. âYou are the samurai Kobayashi of the territory of Tanaka, are you not? This visit was unexpected, but your presence is not unprecedented; the guard told me you would likely come to visit me at some point.â
âThat is correct,â Kobayashi managed to stammer out, still taking in the details of Harvesterâs regalia. Details, details. So many details they made his head spin, so he quit looking. âThe Lord Tanaka wished toââ
âAgain, your tale precedes you,â Harvester said with a light laugh, snapping. The humble table upon which his tea sat grew inexplicably in size, and as Kobayashiâs mind reeled for a rational explanation, he settled for the less-satisfying answer, witchcraft! Harvester nodded to the empty space across from him and dismissed Misaki, who nodded her head in return and left. âI have no interest in formalitiesâ perhaps this is unbecoming of me to say, but I donât like to bother with rituals and customs so much in the ways of pleasant conversationâŚ. I am, of origin, a wanderer, and Iâm afraid tradition eludes me.â He had a haunting, red-stained smile, which pierced his snow-white face.
âWell, that may make our conversation more pleasant,â Kobayashi half-laughed. âI am interested in the new strength of the samurai of this village, and at its core, I suppose, there is you⌠you are a sorcerer, or so I have been told?â
All of this felt very strange to Kobayashi⌠he had expected to have been told to buzz off, or to be distrusted severely by the villagers, not to be welcomed, let alone allowed to meet the very âsourceâ of their power. Yesâ everybody in the village seemed pleasant, to a bizarre degree, one he almost did not trust. Were Tanaka and Subarashii really so close that the territories held absolutely no distrust towards one another? Perhaps Yutana was only particularly territorial and untrusting, and that was why he had no âfriendsâ among the feudal lords. Or maybe they were in a sort of âhappy haze,â a high brought about by their easy lives in the past few years. Persistent Strength was never known to be a village with good farms or food, and yet, the villagers seemed now to eat like kings, with fat animals and plentiful harvests.
âI consider myself a humble servant of the people, if not a friend, but yes, I am a sorcererâŚâ Harvester put down his book of birds in favour of selecting, from a dusty pile behind him, an intricately bound black book that oozed an ominous aura, embroidered with gold decorations and symbols. âI was born with the capabilities of magic, thus the curse of my many hands, but I owe my actual abilities entirely to this book⌠it can be used for good or for bad, as it is, admittedly, born of dark magic, but I choose only to take that which is very good and expand upon it, to bring people pleasure in their lives.â He sighed, tracing the bookâs cover with a lingering finger, placing his head upon another hand.
âLife should be beautiful, like a painting⌠with only watercolor lilies and ink-spot tigers, and perhaps some âevilâ ghosts and spirits to fight along the way in the name of âgoodâŚâ but in life there exists evil, actual evil, which weighs heavy upon and targets the souls of the good, sometimes enveloping them. I cannot do away with this evil, as I am afraid only fire can fight fire, and extinguishing one brand of evil will only beget another, however⌠I wish to bring whatever happiness I can to this often so thankless existence, and reward people for merely living out the gift of life, without regard to where I place them on my moral compass.â His smile briefly returned. âShould not everyone be offered a taste of a beautiful world, with lilac skies and rose clouds? I think it would be so beautiful, to live in a painting, free of the pains of this existence.â
He giggled a bit, fanning himself. âIâm terribly sorry; I donât mean to monologue⌠Iâm very wordy; you must interrupt me when I get like this.â
Kobayashi also laughed, more to be polite, shaking his head. âYour words elude me, but I could listen to them all day; they have a bit of a sense of poetry to them.â He almost forgot what he was going to ask. âIâm sorry to so abruptly change the subject butâ as you know of my purpose already, I must ask you. What have you done to the samurai of this village to make them such fierce warriors in battle?â
âI have done nothing but let their words ring true; they brought their fates into this world by asking me for them⌠I answer to individual passions and interests, but not every samurai wishes to be a great warrior.â He giggled again, and fanned himself. Kobayashi wondered if he must get quite hot under all those clothes. âOf course, as you may have guessed given this is a samurai village, it is most of their desires⌠but some samurai wish for great harvests, or sweetmeats, or good health in their relationships.â
âSo you grant wishes,â Kobayashi said simply, essentially repeating everything Harvester had said in four words.
âSo I do. Youâre lucky your lord sent you⌠you will be the first of the territory of Tanaka to be granted a wish by me!â With no further ado, Harvester asked, âWhat do you wish for?â
Kobayashi was a bit taken aback by the question and had to take a moment to ponder. He knew exactly what he wanted, but had read enough ghost stories and fairy tales to know to wish carefully. After a moment, he had his wish: âI wish to become a legendary samurai, who will be remembered for ages, in history and history to come!!â Harvesterâs smile fell a bit and he bit his lip. âIâm afraid I cannot grant you this wish.â
âWhy not?â Albeit he was disappointed, Kobayashi asked with genuine curiosity, rather than indignance or ingratitude.
âI apologise for not explaining this to you prior to my asking; I got a little caught up in my words⌠I have a few conditions for my wish. I cannot grant more than one wish annually, and I cannot grant extreme wishes, such as sudden wealth, or fame, or in your case, a legendary status. For me to do so would be to go against my own principle, and would result only in tragedy.â
Harvesterâs ochre eyes grew dim and sad, but before Kobayashi could take back his words and assure him there was no need to elaborate, Harvester was already speaking: âYears ago, when I was approximately⌠eighteen, still learning the nuances of my abilities, I sometimes was too eager to grant wishes, and was not sure of where the line lay, exactly, in that a wish was too powerful. I was a wanderer after having been kicked out of my first village for⌠tragedies that befell itâŚâ Quickly and defensively, he asserted, âBut I did not intend for tragedy to occur! I only wished to please those who at some point I must have displeased, but my pandering resulted in their downfall. Anywayâ I traveled from village to village hoping to find a new home, and to try and be friendly, I would offer to grant wishes.
âIn one village, I met a grief-stricken widow. Her husband had died a horrible death; he had died very young, poisoned by a âfriendâ of his who was jealous of his bride! I was sympathetic to her, and as she wept, she begged I bring him back to life. I had never before brought somebody back to life, so I was willing to try⌠I was too rash and caught up in emotion, not bothering to read the very fine print, and granted her wish, bringing her husband back to life.â
There was a long pause, in which Kobayashi felt obligated to ask, âDid he not come back to life?â
âNo, no⌠he came back to life; my magic never fails. However, he came back as a vengeful, soulless body who sought to steal somebody elseâs soul as his own⌠he found an easy target in his wife, who sobbed as she held him in her arms⌠he ate her body until there was nothing left but the soulâ! After consuming the soul, he realised what he had done, and killed himself in the way of the honourable samurai⌠I was exiled immediately from the village. My path is not one that is free of blood, I am sorry to say. In another case, somebody wished for riches beyond imaginable belief, and they came to him⌠and as soon as they did, those who had once been his friends, ravaged by jealousy, tore him apart limb by limb, and took away all his riches! Rumours spread that I was an evil practitioner of the dark arts, and many villages exiled me before I could even step foot within them, afraid that with me I brought a terrible curse. And I did, in a way⌠I brought the curse of inexperience, but from these undesirable happenings, I learned, and shall never again try to stretch the unimaginable into the imaginable again. I can make sour pigs turn sweet. I can turn drooping marigolds into fresh ones. But I cannot turn wood into gold.â
Kobayashi frowned. âIâm very sorry to hear you had to learn in such a hard way.â He was reminded of his youth, when his father would have him kill wild animals to practice his kenjutsu on, to show him the consequences of what would happen if he did not swiftly kill. Even that seemed to pale in comparison with what Harvester told him, even more so because Harvester had not intended at all to kill anybody. To kill with no intent of doing so in your heart is to tie your soul to an anchor and cast it into sea.
âDonât be sorry,â Harvester murmured, and Kobayashi noticed he was crying, trickles of water running down his porcelain face. He felt awkward again, wanting to further console the man, but chose not to, not wanting to offend his pride. âI do still want to grant you a wish, traveler Kobayashi⌠following my guidelines, can you think of another one? I donât mean to be cumbersome.â
How much self loathing does this guy have?! Kobayashi thought to himself, realising that Harvester often referred to himself as a burden, or that he was wasting time, even if the samurai thought nothing of it. Again, he chose not to comment. âWellâŚâ Amidst all that talk, he had definitely noticed a weak spot, and he chose to target it. âMy wish is very simple, then, as I do not wish for power in battle, or luck with my crops⌠I shall wish to be your friend from here on, so that even if this villageâ forbid it ever happenâ turns cold on you, you know you have at least one person to turn to.â
He had to stifle a gasp of surprise, but still flinched, as Harvester sprung with a speed he had not expected of him from his seat, embracing him fully in his many arms. âI donât think I need to use any sorcery to achieve this,â Harvester cooed, holding Kobayashi tight to his chest. Kobayashi noticed he was quite tall, not so much towering over him, but still standing a bit higher than he did. He also noticed, however, that his sandals were platformed, and that it was more likely they were of the same, if not approximately same, height. As he had suspected, the sorcerer Harvester was not one of many friends, even with so many people who seemed to love him, and was eager like a dog to make any, let alone be so brashly asked to be one. He loosened his grip, hesitating, biting his lip again. âHowever, are you certain you want this to be your wishâŚ? I warn you that, if you say it is, I will grant it to you, and you will not be able to make another for a year.â
âI am certain. I wish to be a friend to you, and to see you as a friend⌠I wish to be such dear friends that it would kill us if we parted ways,â Kobayashi reasserted, saying the last part half-jokingly, and again felt that bear-like embrace. Overcoming the slight awkwardness, it was actually quite nice, so wrapped up in the sorcererâs arms⌠the fabric he wore felt as of high of a quality as it looked, soft and light, genuine silk with delicate embroideries and designs littered throughout, and his touch was warm, until the cold tips of his long fingernails. Kobayashi wondered where heâd gotten this from, as he had never seen anybody before with such long nails⌠then again, he had never seen anybody like Harvester regardless, aside from perhaps in the stray kabuki performance here & there.
âThen your wish is granted.â Harvester abruptly pulled back from Kobayashi and settled peacefully back into his seat, a content smile floating on his face. âIâm sorry if I intruded upon your personal space; itâs justâŚ.â He had gone back to his book of birds, but looked up, piercing yellow eyes meeting with Kobayashiâs brown ones. â...nobody has ever so explicitly declared a desire to be my friend before. It was very nice. I must thank you.â
âThe pleasure is mine,â Kobayashi said as politely as he could, stifling his excitement. As soon as Harvester redirected his attention to the book of birds, probably trying to play it cool, Kobayashi stared intently at the black and gold book he had replaced behind him, practically calling to him. Although Harvester was a sorcerer and had some grasp of magic since birth, Kobayashi recognised the book as one of the forbidden dark arts from the Feudal Lord Yutanaâs descriptions, & knew⌠he knew, that if he played his cards right, there might be a chance to get his hands on it, & by extension, grant his own wish!
Harvester was a great sorcerer, he had decided to make up his mind, perhaps convinced outright by the trick with the table and his unconventional appearance, but he certainly, in Kobayashiâs humble opinion, had his shortcomings⌠it was likely his meek personality made his magic less powerful, which in result, made his more ambitious wish-granting blow up in his face, since he did not have a powerful enough spirit to make up for it.
In spite of Kobayashiâs selfish thoughts, he and Harvester grew quite close and Kobayashi even genuinely enjoyed the friendship they shared, finding the sorcerer more and more under-appreciated beyond his skills. They spun great tales to one another, and went hunting, Harvester more-so for temporary pets than anything to eat⌠every time, Kobayashi failed to actually kill any animals, as Harvester swooped in to the rescue, and found a way to make even the most warted toad an endearing little pet. The villagers were happy, Kobayashi was happy, Harvester was happy, & Misaki was happy. As much as she did care about Harvester, she still had her duties to tend to in the village and as an onna-bugeisha, and found some relief in not having to take time out of every day for the sorcerer.
She did not at all coddle or âmotherâ him, as she was not at all the type to take on a motherly role for anything outside of her kitten, who was now a cat, but as she explained to Kobayashi one evening while Harvester slept, âItâs because of his unsocial upbringing that heâs such a terribly lonely person⌠did he tell you, that in school, he did not have a single friend because he was seen as a monster? Even before the children turned bitter, they wanted nothing to do with him, only stayed pacific because the woman who took care of him was a respected village elderâŚâ She went on about things that, yes, indeed, Harvester had already told Kobayashi about, but the samurai let her speak on regardless, too tired to even express disinterest. Misaki was highly energetic and the type who would be fine with only two hours of sleep in a night, immune to tiredness, quite the opposite of Harvester, who could sleep twelve hours a night and still feel tired come morning.
â...itâs just so wonderful that youâve stepped in to be a friend to him; I believe the village has benefited from your presence.â
The presence would not last much longerâ a month passed, and Kobayashi had to return to his Lord, who had granted him a month and a quarter for travel and visitation. He bid Harvester and the villagers a bittersweet farewell and swore to return, waving from the back of his horse as a good portion of the village waved in return, giving blessings for his safe arrival. Little did they know that rather than the Lord Tanaka, Kobayashi reported directly to the Lord Yutana, who listened intently as Kobayashi told his taleâ
ânot at all of sorcerers and wish-granting, but of rigorous training the samurai had to endure that molded them into peak physical condition, forms so gnarly, so beastly, that it was hard to tell once stripped of their armour that they were human at all! He told of training conditions so gruesome he never would have dreamed of them, and that he wished he would have gone as more than a traveler, so that he could train under them, with their brutal techniques, which were sure to whip him into tip-top shape!!
âAnd here I was certain it was witchcraft,â Yutana laughed. He was an intimidating figure beyond his title, burly, large, with a face littered with scars from past altercations he obviously had won, or else he would not be alive to chat with his most trusted samurai. âThis training regimen sounds interesting⌠you tell me the villagers were hostile at first, like they were starving, but softened as they learned of your true intentions in simply wanting to act as an intermediary⌠for an allyship between the Tanaka and the Subarashii territories? They did not question this?â
âThey did question it, your Lordship, they did!â Kobayashi exclaimed, spinning lies in his head as he spoke. âI was almost subjected to gruesome torture upon my initial arrival, as they believed me to be a cruel spy from an enemy territory⌠but I took careful precaution in acting exactly like a samurai from the Tanaka territory, and as you can see by my being alive before you today, your Lordship, I succeeded!â
Yutana stroked his chin, thinking. âThis training may be useful to our ranks⌠I have made my decision.â
Hope blossomed in Kobayashiâs heart, only to be shattered by Yutanaâs words: âYou have done excellently, my friend⌠I will send a group of disguised persons out to the village of Persistent Strength tomorrow⌠I shall grant them six months, so they may become lavishly acquainted with this method you describe!! They will be a scribe, to take notes of the strategies, some fighters, two of the courtâs oiran, as a gift, and four of my finest samurai, so they may train their men in these techniques upon their return⌠of which you are of course one, but you have done enough for me, & I trust you will lead your men well. You may rest, samurai Kobayashi.â
Kobayashi bowed, not showing any disappointment whatsoever. âThank you, my Lordship. I trust they will not disappoint you.â
That night, Kobayashi fretted nervously about what to doâ not only would his trust within the village be shattered and this lead to some conflict and suspicion, it also would result in his possible death! The Feudal Lord Yutana was unbending to emotional tiesâ it did not matter if Kobayashi was a commoner, his worst enemy, his brother, or, as the case was, his closest friend; if Yutana found that he betrayed him, he would die! He could not sleep, and in his unrest, concocted a sinister plan that he knew was evil, but was the only good solution, as far as he was concerned: he would kill every person in the group Yutana sent out, to preserve his own honour!
And so, very early in the morning, he hid among the bushes on the path he was certain Yutana would send them with his most trusted katana clenched tight in his sweaty fist. If he were a most honourable follower of the bushido as most samurai were, this very katana would have plunged into his stomach the second he caught himself lying to his lord, but as the matter stood, he had already cast aside all morals by betraying his friend and leader, so why not plunge himself further into the madness? He was not sure what exactly had changed within himself to act in such a drastic manner. He had never been a particularly greedy person, and he felt that, although it was certainly a contributing factor, he was not acting so rashly purely out of his selfish desire to grant his own wish⌠he also knew for a fact that Yutana had never wronged him, and that there was no real reason to so greatly betray he who had been his closest friend.
He wondered exactly how disastrous it would be if the group did arrive in Persistent Strength⌠surely, he would be killed, or exiled (which was more dishonourable), and the groups might quarrel some amongst one anotherâ there lie the problem. Following the quarrel, the village of Persistent Strength would surely offer Harvester as a token of peace to prevent war from breaking out between the grand territory under the Feudal Lord Yutana and that of Subarashii. No matter how great, a single village and then some less remarkable forces of a smaller land simply could not wipe out an army of samurai so great and honour-bound as that of Yutana!!
As soon as he heard footsteps approaching, Kobayashi peered through the leaves of the bush in which he was hidden, and immediately recognised the faux-uniforms of the âTanakaâ samurai. Following the group of about four samurai were the scribe, a few common fighters, & two oiran, one of whom was presumably a woman and the other a man, both decorated lavishly in makeup, expensive clothing, and hair accessories. It almost seemed a shame to put such a rude end to such living pieces of art, but it could not be helped⌠with an almost insane cry, Kobayashi leapt out from within the bush and immediately slit the first two samuraiâs throats, catching them so off guard they had not even the time to draw their weapons, as Kobayashi danced around, fighting with the other two samurai, who underestimated him due to his appearance.
Kobayashi had not acted entirely rashly, and disguised himself as a madman, wearing tattered clothes the refined Kobayashi would never dare touch, and the mask of a demon, with wicked eyes and a rolling tongue. One oiran fainted and the woman caught him, fanning his face while at the same time shuffling backwards, seeming to silently accept her fate. The samuraiâs not taking him seriously led to their downfall, as they never would have suspected the offender was none other than the great samurai Kobayashi, Yutanaâs right hand man and knife-in-the-back! Kobayashi had to fight himself from shedding any more blood⌠it would be senseless to kill the others. Two were only oiran, surely not fit to fight or brave enough to tread onwards, the other was a scribe, fitting of the same description, and the fighters were prisoners, foreign prisoners, presumably Chinese, branded, and bound in heavy chains which Kobayashi cut, setting them free. As heâd expected, they ran to either side like startled fish in a tank, owing the feudal lord no loyalty.
After he made some threatening noises at the remaining audience, the female oiran managed to slap the sense into the male, and the two ran off, followed closely by the scribe. It was terrible, your Lordship, Kobayashi imagined them saying, An absolute madman appeared in our paths, and killed our beloved samurai shamelessly, before they even had the chance to respond⌠and oh, oh, the prisoners, those terrible rapists and thieves and murderers, the madman just cut them free!! We are so awfully sorry there was nothing we could do to help; it all happened so fastâŚ
While Kobayashi could not undo the lie he had told his lord, he had at least bought himself some time⌠cold terror; he had not thought this through! He had not bought himself some time; Yutana would only send more men!! He had thousands of them! And so, the poor oiran and the scribe fell victim to the blade after all; as much as Kobayashi had wanted to spare their lives, he could not risk his plan falling into shambles so quickly. He just needed some time⌠he had six months, if all went well, before he would have to find some way to disappear, preferably with the sorcerer.
He carefully buried the bodies of the deceased and stole a uniform from one of the samurai whose throat he had slit, finding there was not a terrible amount of blood staining his clothes. Kobayashi felt remorseful over their deaths, certainly, but he was not as sensitive to it as the average person might beâ after all, since his childhood, he had seen plenty of blood and death; the only difference here was that it was not an âenemyâ he had slain, but one of his side. A chilling thought entered his mind. Who cares? The enemy has loved ones and family, too. The people in Persistent Strength had proven to him that much.
His journey back took much longer than it had him the first time, as now he not only had no map, he also had no steed, and found himself having to awkwardly stumble from village to village, guessing his way back to Persistent Strength.
When he finally arrived, a good week and a half later, he found nothing had changed about the village at all⌠unsurprisingly, as he had really not been gone for so long at all. It still seemed like it, perhaps because time passed slower now that blood had been spilled so cruelly in its path. Kobayashi would never tell Harvester about this, even if Yutana got to him first⌠he decided he would rather kill himself, than let Harvester hear about the evils he had committed in his name. He knew Harvester would only blame himself, and that he already had a guilty enough conscience about accidentally killing the people whose stories he had told. He gripped his head. Harvester, Harvester, Harvester.
The name haunted him like a melody he could not forget, and it brought him agony when he was not with it. His longing for the sorcererâs friendship ached like an ulcer in his heart, and he almost felt like he was dragging himself into the village, only very sloppily greeting the guard, who let him in with a concerned side-glance and a murmur to his friend on duty. He dragged himself to the inn, where he only exchanged a few brief words with the inn-keeper, then threw himself upon the same bed heâd stayed on last time, only able to see brilliant red hair and yellow eyes when he closed his, torturing him, until he fell into a deep, restless, dreamless sleep.
When he woke up, he thought he was still dreaming, but after blinking a few times and rubbing his eyes, he found this was not the caseâ in front of him, very much real, sat Harvester, whose gaze quickly averted to the book in his lapâ this one garishly illustrated with what looked like childrenâs renditions of ukiyo-e, done in sloppy ink and amateurish watercolor. âGood morning, friend,â he said quietly, a long-nailed finger flipping the page. âHow did you know I was here?â Kobayashi abruptly asked, suddenly embarrassed, realising he slept under the covers fully nude, having had stripped himself entirely of his garments & undergarments, so hot it had been the night before. Strangely warm for the coming autumn.
âThis is a small village, and news travels very quickly,â Harvester quipped, holding his dragon fan over his face as he offered Kobayashi a robe, which the latter graciously accepted, slipping out of his bed to put it on quickly, giving Harvester an OK, after which the fan was lowered. Harvester wore less than he usually did, probably even he being unable to bear the bizarre heat, stripped down to a mere kimono decorated with scenes of fish and tangerine trees. He smiled. âIâm very glad you came back⌠it was a terribly lonely week, and I got very sick.â He giggled a bit. âSome of the villagers were even afraid I was going to die⌠theyâre so dramatic.â
Kobayashi only lightly grunted in response, too embarrassed to say he felt awfully lonely too in that short week. He chose to cage his emotions in his heart, believing that expressing such sentiments was reserved for the weak. He liked Harvester, but he would never go so far as to lie to himself and say he had a strong personality, and beyond magical abilities, would definitely categorise him as one of the weak.
The village was prosperous as ever, and Kobayashi was able to peacefully set behind him the horrors he would surely have to face in the future, distracted by a more pleasant present. He no longer had to reside in the inn⌠since he was going to be staying for so long, Harvester invited him to move into his own âhome,â the hut that had at this point been donated to him by Misaki, as she used it for nothing but to store objects that were of no real use to her. Kobayashi gladly accepted and the two lived harmoniously, or so it would seem on a surface level⌠Kobayashi kept Harvester magnificent company, but when he was in his long sleeps, he would secretly take the book of sorcery and feverishly copy the scripts pertaining to his interest, determined to, before his time was up, grant his own wish!
And perhaps if he could, indeed, pull off this remarkable feat, he need not worry about the current âfutureâŚâ perhaps his entire fate would change, as he went down a spectacular legend in Japan!! The giddiness alone kept him preoccupied, and it consumed him whenever he was away from Harvester, unable to do anything but religiously copy, and recite, and copy, and recite. He hid his copyings inside his heavy coat of armor, which he had not cleaned since heâd arrived again in the village, and did not intend to, as it made a remarkable hiding place.
One day, however, he returned from picking apples with Harvester to find his armor was gone⌠panic seized his heart, and he rushed to find his armor, assuring the sorcerer he would be back as soon as he found it. Harvester offered to simply buy, or even make, him a new set, but he declined the offer, claiming this set of armor was particularly important to him as it had once belonged to his sworn brother. Lies, lies, lies. It hurt him to lie so blatantly to his most beloved friend, but at this point, he had gotten so tangled in his own web he had to be careful another spider did not come along and eat him. Discreetly, he hid his favourite katana in his robe as he headed out, hoping his intuition would be correctâ he presumed that Misaki or one of her brothers had taken the armour to clean, after finding the dirty (& admittedly, slightly pungent, although Harvester was too meek to say anything) set in the hut and thinking nothing of it.
Kobayashi thanked the universe his hunch had been correct, as by a river in the forest bordering Persistent Strength, leaned up against an ancient tree, he saw one of Misakiâs brothers sitting, eating an apple⌠& more perturbingly, flipping through the pages of Kobayashiâs writing, his brow creased. It was obvious the work did not belong to Harvesterâ Harvesterâs works were contained entirely to his signature black & gold book, or written very neatly in long, confusingly written scriptures hanging from the walls of the hut, in a style that even the old masters would have a hard time deciphering. Also, Harvester liked to paint very pretty pictures on his writing, to liven them up, from bunny rabbits to peacocks to cranes to pandas to⌠any creature he found beautiful, and just so happened to vaguely know how to draw. Anybody who knew him as closely as Kobayashi, Misaki, her brothers, & a select handful of the villagers did, would know that was not his writing!
Still, Kobayashi chose to play it cool, approaching the brother with a pleasant disposition. The brother must have noticed him already, for he did not flinch when he was spoken to: âGood dayâ you are one of Misakiâs brothers, are you not?â
âI am,â the brother said, unshaken. His gaze was still affixed to the text. âThis is very old,â he noted, tapping on a corner. It crumbled slightly. âYet the writing is quite fresh, scribbled in sloppy scripture as though in a hurryâŚâ He took a long bite from his apple, rather rudely speaking while he chewed, âLife should not be taken rapidly. Youâll miss out on a lot of important things if you try to rush. Even in battle, you must think deliberately, and concisely, and appreciate the art of war⌠in life, we are all artists, of different mediums, and our skill is measured by our dedication.â
He swallowed, and looked at Kobayashi. Now any feeling of ease Kobayashi had had melted away like a snowflake on a finger, as he was met by ice in the brotherâs gazeâ no, glare. âI do not know you, personally, but I am well-acquainted with the sorcerer Harvester, and know he would not write like this⌠I also know he takes very good care of you, and would not be so careless as to let somebody put leaflets in your armor. Additionally, only you, my brother, or my sister would have access to his book of sorcery, and this is not a one of our handwriting, nor would we stuff it in your armour.â
Kobayashi had nothing to say.
âAs I expected,â the brother said, of his silence. Kobayashi was so angry, he was not even able to appreciate the older manâs beauty, with serene brown eyes, smooth skin, a defined nose, and sleek hair tied into a chonmage that defied convention, as he had not shaved a part of his head. He wore a loose white robe, clearly not having had been planning to go anywhere that day. âAre you attempting to overthrow the sorcerer Harvester, samurai Kobayashi? I warn you, that as a mere mortal, not to mention a guest of the village, you will not be welcomed to do so⌠the dark arts will only eat your soul being used improperly like this.â He pointed at a segment of the scripture. âI have never seen the original, but from your writing, this book was clearly not meant to be used by mere humans such as you and I⌠in fact, I am not certain if a human even wrote this; the convoluted wording seems more like it belongs to a supernatural being!â
Kobayashi drew his katana but did not fully unsheath it, as the brother warned him, âYou seem like that dark magic is already getting to your head⌠for your sake, mine, the villageâs, and the sorcererâs, I warn that you do not harm me.â He curled his lip a bit, like he wanted to spit, but would not do so, for to tarnish mother nature with his saliva was improper and lower than the high standards he had set for himself. âI do not think your beloved Harvesterâs heart would be able to take to my death, anyways.â He said this with some cruel intonation that set Kobayashi off, and before he could move a hair, Kobayashi caught him by surprise, grabbing him by the ears like a bull⌠he swiftly plunged his head underwater and used all his might to hold him down, even as the other jolted and tossed and kicked, until he did no more, and the body was limp, peacefully crumpled on the ground. Kobayashi swiftly collected his writings, waited, then ran back to the village, waving his arms about to cause a commotion.
âThe brother of Misaki has drowned, how terrible!!!â He cried, quickly catching the attention of several villagers, who ran outside. Among these villagers were of course Misaki and her remaining brother, faces ghostly white. âWhere is he?!â Misaki demanded. âHeâs by the river nearest here, where I believe this village washes clothes⌠it was terrible; I went to see if my armor was there, &... oh, what a terrible fate unbecoming of a fine young samurai such as him!!â
Still putting others before herself, Misaki begged Kobayashi to inform Harvester of the news & stay by his side in case he were grief-stricken. Almost enviously, haunted by the last words of the deceased, Kobayashi wondered what sort of a relationship Harvester might have had with the late samurai, but decided it did not matter, as it had never been mentioned. He more-than-happily did as told, and spent the night comforting an, indeed, grief-stricken Harvester, whose heart seemed to register every death he encountered as heavily as he had his first.
Kobayashi wondered if he were at this point a monster⌠he had betrayed and lied to his lord and childhood friend, he had killed some of his comrades & some innocent bystanders, he had lied to the villagers whom, to him, had been so friendly, and even killed one of them because of something so petty and selfish as having had found his writings based off the sorcererâs text⌠& even to the sorcerer himself, he lied, by concealing significant parts of the truth! He again chose not to dwell on this, determined that he was still on a path of righteousness, and that all of his actions would be, ultimately, for the greater good of Japan when he finally became a legendary samurai, who, if his story were told even beyond Japan, may even bring smiling honour to his beloved country!
As with enemies slain on the battlefield, he was certain the lives heâd put to rest were for good cause⌠and thus as Harvester finally calmed down and fell asleep in his arms, Kobayashi fell asleep, too, dreaming only of pleasant things⌠lavender fields and cauliflower skies.
Months passed, and Kobayashi grew more and more confident in his skills as a fledgling sorcerer⌠he was able to make wilted flowers bloom again, and even restore the bodies of dead animals, even if he could not bring them back to life. He found himself wondering again as to the limits of Harvesterâs abilities to grant wishes⌠he knew the reason why he did not grant powerful wishes, but he could still not grasp why he only was able to grant one a year. Fearing this may cause repercussions since his first âwishâ had already been granted months earlier, he decided one day to ask, âHarvester?â
Harvester looked up from the finely embroidered sheet he was working on, decorated with whimsical birds and lively ghosts. âFor what reason can you not grant more than one wish per year?â
Harvester looked a bit sheepish, as he stuck his needle back through the cloth. âItâs a bit embarrassing, really, and you already think I have such a weak character; I donât want to seem patheticâŚâ
âIf I found you pathetic I would not so lovingly devote hours upon hours of my day to you,â Kobayashi responded. He internally made a note to wish, if he were so powerful, for Harvester to have self confidence. He didnât mind his constant lamentations, but he felt so terribly for him⌠to him, Harvester was the epitome of a good, pure person, and if he could, he would wish upon him only the most wonderful things, so he could live in the âpainting worldâ he had described to him so long ago, when they first met.
âSo long agoâ sometimes seemed like yesterday.
Brushing a bit of hair out of his face, Harvester answered, âI actually can grant many wishes⌠there is no limit, truly, to the amount of wishes I can grant within a year, so long as they are innocuous.â Kobayashi was puzzled by this, his expression shifting. âThis is where it gets a bit silly⌠Iâm afraid that if I allow people to so ludicrously be granted wishes, that I will wither away⌠a husk of a person, hollowed out because I have been used, and used, and used⌠with no love being given to me in return. I learned when I was young how painful it is to be used, and to only be liked for what I can contribute, rather than who I am⌠which is why I try very hard to be a friend to the villagers, more than just âhe who grants wishes.â Even youâŚâ Harvester bit his lip and averted his gaze, seeming very ashamed. âI value you, and I love you very much, but even you I am afraid would use me for wishes if I became a wishing well⌠I wish for you to remember I am human, & do not want to be a hypocrite by granting only you wishes⌠so I set my limit firmly at one wish annually.â
Kobayashi chewed on his thumb, ingesting his words. Harvester, despite his insecurities, was wise beyond his years, making it hard for even him to remember sometimes that he was only in his early twenties. âI understand that wholeheartedly⌠do not call it silly; I respect this decision of yours fully, and see why you would assert it so. I do not mean this in an unkind way, but I think you need to cultivate some self-confidence.â Still, he shot Harvester a half-teasing smile, rocking on his heels. âSo even if I asked for it, you wouldnât grant me my wish to be a legendary samurai?â
Harvester laughed a bit. Kobayashi had become quite fond of his laughâ he noticed, through the time they had spent together, that Harvester only ever really laughed in his presence. The sorcerer was otherwise too shy to put up anything beyond a solemn face, or a weak smile. Something about Kobayashi must bring out his âgood side,â for every time they were together, it was like bells, chiming in the breeze, and not because Kobayashi was a funny person⌠it was a laugh of enjoyment, of genuine happiness, that could not be emulated to the samuraiâs ears, no matter how good of an impersonator anybody was. âI wouldnât grant you that wish if you were my favourite person in the world,â Harvester mused.
The fireplace flickered warmly in the background and the room was enveloped in the sweet smell of eucalyptus, mint, and sage Harvester seemed so fond of, his extravagance not slighted as he specifically requested incense sticks to be imported from China, as he believed the ones in Japan just didnât capture the scent quite correctly. Dusty books littered the floor and a colorful, yet uniform array of wall-paintings accompanied by neatly written ancient script decorated the otherwise unassuming walls, and miscellaneous trinkets were scattered about⌠Harvesterâs abode was the perfect balance of organised and disorganised, the two working hand in hand to create a comforting, yet clean environment, in which one could sleep and feel at home, even if they had never been there before in their life. Kobayashi felt, for a striking moment, a painful sort of bittersweet as he absorbed the environment, knowing this could not last, before he suddenly blurted, âAm I not your favourite person?â
âMy favourite person is me!â Harvester chirped, fanning himself rapidly in a teasing, comical manner. âI have decided this just now, since you have told me to be more self confident⌠I am first in this world!!â Kobayashi couldnât help but to laugh as well at Harvesterâs newfound âconfidence,â abandoning all fronts as the two laughed in harmony, going perfectly in stride with one anotherâŚ
...but as Kobayashi already knew, good things would never last; the moment was melancholy as soon as it passed, a beautiful lily tread upon by a wild boar. He grew all the more confident in his abilities as the fourth month since his second arrival passed, and he went so far as to test his wish-granting abilities. He was headstrong, for sure, and believed that what differentiated him from Harvester was simply confidence, rather than any particular talent or skill. What differentiates a sorcerer from a wizard, anyways? He thought to himself, catching the conversation of a pair of villagers walking by. One happens to be born with magic and expands upon it, the other simply learns it. âI wish it were raining,â a farmer-samurai mumbled, more likely fated to forever be a farmer, given he was missing a leg, hobbling along on a makeshift crutch. âMy crops have been doing so wonderfully, but this drought as of late, I fear, will crimp my style.â Kobayashi closed his eyes and under his breath, murmured the key âwish-grantingâ phrases heâd painstakingly memorised from Harvesterâs texts. As soon as he finished, he felt a droplet on his nose⌠then another, and another, and soon enough, rain was pouring from the sky, making the farmer-samurai beam and Kobayashiâs confidence go through the roof!
As Harvester fussed over his wet clothes and soaking hair, taking special care to prepare for him a bath infused with his favourite scented oils, Kobayashi wished he could tell Harvester of his little victory, but was smart and held his tongue. He had only seen Harvester in a bad mood a few times, but each time was simply awful⌠not only because he had to see the usually-so-sweet Harvester angry, but because Harvesterâs anger was likely his weakest point, and at the same time, ironically, his strongest, inviting the worst of the dark arts to march with his stride. When he was in a bad mood, Harvester walked with literal storm clouds over his head, and was bitter and nasty to even Kobayashi, speaking with the tongue of a serpent and looking with eyes of pure evil, cold enough to turn anybody into ice! Another one of his weak points was that he at times grew terribly possessive, and when coupled with a bad mood, this resulted in cruel words and things-better-left unsaid.
The villagers knew long & well to avoid Harvester whenever he got in such a âmood,â but hadnât warned Kobayashi of it, who had had to suffer through one or two of these fits, which was more than enough for him to know to leave Harvester to his own devices when upset.
More terrifying than the anger alone was there was never a good reason as to what prompted it, nor was there ever a clear distinction to what would cause what reaction in Harvester and why⌠Kobayashi imagined two distinct possibilities were Harvester to learn of his betrayal. One, he would fly into an extreme rage and spit and curse and condemn the samuraiâs name so far as generations a thousand years back, or two, he would start to uncontrollably weep and curl into a ball of insatiable self-loathing, unable to blame anybody but himself for how things had turned out, or worse yet, think Kobayashi had only been using him for his magical abilities all along, even after he had confided in him this was one of his greatest fears!!
The next day, Kobayashi managed to grant a minor wish, and the day after, and the day after⌠after an entire week of tiny wishes being granted at such speed and with such accuracy he was certain they were not mere coincidences, Kobayashi plunged into perfecting his long-awaited spell⌠to grant himself his own wish!!
Heâd planned to wait a few months to do so, but he heard from a town gossip there was trouble afoot⌠apparently the Feudal Lord Yutana was of plan to storm the village of Persistent Strength, suspicious since recently his men found, deep, deep underground, the mission he had sent all those months before⌠and not to mention, although unbeknownst to the gossip, that his most trusted samurai was missing! Kobayashi cursed the skies that he hadnât been given a few more months to prepare, but was at once grateful at least heâd had some time to prepare, and that his plan, albeit a bit more rushed, was not a total shot in the dark. He carefully planned out how he would handle this⌠he contemplated placing himself in chains, making himself out to be a prisoner after Yutanaâs samurai, undoubtedly, squashed the samurai of Persistent Strength. Perhaps he would place Harvester in chains as well, or fake his deathâŚ
Tomorrow? Theyâre coming tomorrow?! What have we ever done to offend the Lord Yutana?! What would we have to do with the death of his men on some random pathâŚ
Oiran, as well? And a court scribe? Itâs blasphemous that we would be accused of such things⌠oh well, perhaps they are using it as a cover to simply attack us, in the name of âdefenseâŚâ I hope we can talk this over with them without shedding any blood, but still, we will have to suit up, just in case!
Hearing the gossip, Kobayashi panicked, deciding there was no time to waste⌠it was now or never; he would become a legendary samurai, and he would put an end to this spiral of problems that seemed to have only been worsening since the first time he visited the village!!
The next morning, he dressed in his karuta, kabuto, and the rest of his attire, armed with three fine katana, then rushed to the room in which Harvester slept, and the latter seemed surprised to see him in such a disarray, in the middle of meditation when he barged in. He stood up and opened his mouth, but before he could say a thing, Kobayashi kissed him square on the lips, holding him carefully by his neck and back so he could not fall. Harvester immediately fainted, as Kobayashiâs kiss doubled not only as an affectionate gesture, but to temporarily drain his powers, a technique not even Harvester had ever used, and was therefore entirely stunned by when confronted by it. Gently, Kobayashi lay Harvester down on his bamboo mat as though he were really asleep, shifting him to a comfortable position. Rest for now⌠I hope that when you rise, this nightmare will be over, and the both of us can continue to live with the mud of our past lives cleaned off our feet!!
Casting him one last look, Kobayashi thought, but actually said out loud, âI would value you just as much as I do if you were a normal person.â
Taking a deep breath, he wished to himself, âI wish to become a legendary samurai, who will be remembered for ages, in history and history to come⌠name not only sealed in legend in Japan, but in the world beyond!!â
He repeated, quietly, every single word and number from Harvesterâs convoluted texts he had memorised pertaining to powerful wishes, until he had spoken six entire pagesâ worth without even realising⌠at first, he felt nothing, aside from perhaps a bit of dismay at thinking his spell had not worked. However, as he began to move, he felt a sudden power in his body, a power which he had never experienced before! He almost fainted, but his body gained control of itself, as though it were controlled by a spirit entirely not his own, while the real âhimâ slept somewhere inside.
It was the quiet of the morningâ Yutanaâs men had not yet arrived. Kobayashi didnât even have the time to breathe a sigh of relief before an insane bloodlust took over him all of a sudden. He rapped on the door of Misaki and her brotherâs residence. Minutes later, she opened it, dressed fully in her armour, as though sheâd already been expecting a foe. Before she could call for her brother, Kobayashi skillfully cut her, slicing through her armor like it was butter, even his blade possessing a new soul that was not its own. Following Misakiâs demise was her brother, but even after those two, the new Kobayashiâs bloodlust was not satisfied⌠he had completely lost his senses. He followed the same pattern until the entire village awoke in a panic and gathered in the murk of morning to confront him⌠youâd think he was up against a pile of ants rather than some of the most refined, skilled, and blessed samurai in Japan, as he cut down person after person after person, sparing neither man, nor woman, nor child, nor anybody else, until surrounding him was only a heap of dead flesh.
Two villagers, a child and his mother, survived, and had run to the nearest village, begging them to come help, and they didâ like cattle to the slaughter, even the neighbour village fell victim to Kobayashiâs katana, which glowed a menacing crimson under the red moonâs glow, illuminated by the fresh blood against its silver surface. The child and his mother hid in the woods, feeling awful they had bothered to even ask for help⌠it was a demon, they were certain, a demon had entered their beloved village and torn all their friends and family to shreds, and then some!!! What human could be capable of committing such an atrocious act?!
Following the slaughter, Kobayashiâs disturbed soul sensed only silence in the village⌠peaceful, slumbering silence, like everybody had gone to sleep. Before him lie not cadavers, but sleeping villagers⌠silly, sleeping villagers, lying in a heap of the middle of the town. The bloodlust simmered down, until it was suddenly disrupted by a sensationâ somebody moving. Living flesh. Somebody was still alive!! Like a blind dog, Kobayashi teeteringly followed the source, feeding off the terror emitting from the person standing before him, who whispered a final wish, knowing he was going to die: it was none other than Harvester, who had awoken from his own slumber, and came out to confront Kobayashi, only to be greeted by his favourite friend covered in the blood of all the villagers who had been so kind to him, now lying in heaps like surface level mass burial grounds before him, rendering him speechless, sinking to his knees. âKobayashi, what have you done?â he asked, unable even to sob, as he stared, aghast, feeling faint, but forcing himself not to fall again.
He received no response, so he stood upright. He would not allow himself to become a pitiful, self-loathing crumb in what were likely his final moments, especially not in front of Kobayashi, or whoever had possessed him, who had made so sure to try to instill confidence in him. âKobayashi, what have you done?â he screamed, moving boldly towards the samurai, who had long stripped of the bulky armour and helmet, finding he could move much more easily with only his robes and his katanas. Blood obscured the majority of his features, and Harvester felt a pit of despair rising in his gut, not even able to see the face of his closest friend one last time. âWhy donât you just kill me already?â he cried, unable to put up a front anymore. There was no need to act, anywaysâ he knew that he was not speaking to Kobayashi, so he could not even have his final moment of honour. âKill me!!â he screamed, more adamantly, hoping to at least get through to Kobayashi, if he did not die. Tears streamed down his face, and he groveled, hating himself⌠he cursed himself, and tore at himself, ironically, because he could not be confident like Kobayashi had always wished for him. It was too late. Whatever happened now, it was too late.
Perhaps death would be better, anyways⌠all his life, it seemed that wherever Harvester went, he only invited chaos, in spite of all good intentions, even now, with the first village to ever have embraced him gone, and his dearest friend virtually dead. With nobody, Harvester felt again like he did in those woods when he chose to let himself die of the cold, no longer having the will to live. This time, however, he would not leave himself to the mercy of mother nature⌠he did not know from whom he was born, but he always knew, innately, he was not of this world. âKill me!â he shrieked again, and when Kobayashi still did not move, perhaps acting as the cat lurking over its helpless prey.
He felt that he was irredeemable, probably even more irredeemable than the greatest monsters of history⌠he was irredeemable in that, no matter how hard he tried, he could not change! He could never bring himself to truly master the dark arts because he feared bringing about negative consequences, he could never bring himself to truly express his affections for Kobayashi because he feared his judgment, he could never bring himself to socialise with his classmates because he feared they would not like him, and he could never bring himself to love himself because he feared it would make him arrogant⌠and that fear that had haunted him his entire life finally caught up to him through a slow-stepped dance, placing him in the ugliest trap: due to his fear in the past, he did not know a single spell to stop a rampaging madman like Kobayashi!!
Finally, with a slow, dream-like movement, Kobayashi took a step forward and with a movement so fast even Harvester did not notice it, he drove his favourite katana through the sorcererâs throat. Forth from the wound sprung a magnificent pool of scarlet blood matching his vibrant hair, from which some of the blood landed on Kobayashiâs lip⌠when he licked off the wizardâs blood, he gained a sudden moment of clarity, losing his stolen powers, and found his spell to be broken!! Kobayashiâs regaining his sanity cast him into a deeper state of insanity than that which he had been in before⌠in front of him, he found his dearest friend dead, and behind him, he found the villagers who had been so kind to him in the past in spite of his selfish intentions all dead as well, stacked in piles of resentful bodies, & then some he did not even recognise! Looking at the expression on Harvesterâs face, he knew his death had not been a remotely peaceful one, from the smudged powder & rouge pooling on the ground by his weeping half-severed head.
Allowing himself, after so many years of simply keeping his emotions to himself as he did not want to seem âunmanlyâ to others, to sob, Kobayashi fell to his knees and embraced the body of the bygone sorcerer, removing the katana & cursing himself more than any person in the entire village could wish to. Sitting Harvester so that he sat behind him, a pair of arms loosely dangling over his shoulders and his stomach pressed up against his back, Kobayashi tearfully drove the katana through his stomach and Harvesterâs, whispering one final, hopeful wish under his breath: that he & Harvester be united in death as spirits, & that Harvester could find it in his gracious heart to forgive him!
Come sunrise, Yutanaâs men, which turned out only to be a handful, sent to discuss matters with the departed leader of Persistent Strength, were shocked to be met by a morbid landscape: a river of blood, and mountains of bodies, painted with the brushstrokes of three katana. Where the guards of the village normally stood, there stood only the mother and child who solely survived the incident, tearfully explaining the unbelievable events that had happened.
The men were shocked to see the woman point out Kobayashi as the perpetrator, easily identified by the katana lodged in his stomach & his distinctive makeup, which he liked to do like a kabuki theatre samurai, always trying to leave an impression. The woman and child were taken to the Feudal Lord Yutana, who had a hard time believing the tale, but no reason to disbelieve it, either, as the evidence did indeed all stack up in damnation of KobayashiâŚ
...the tale of the samurai who had not only betrayed his lord, but also killed two whole villages, one of which was a group of elite samurai, as well as a great sorcerer, spread like wildfire. First, it traveled through Japan, until within a few weeksâ time, it became a popular tale of gossip in nearly every village, and was already being used to threaten cocky young samurai who thought theyâd want to try and be legend-worthy samurai. The tale spread out even beyond Japan, picking up through woodblock prints and retellings across trade routes, making its way as far west as to Holland, a country on the Atlantic shoreline, and was quickly adapted cross-culturally, each retelling throughout the years remaining roughly the same⌠the tale of a great warrior, who killed not only the people along his path who were so kind to him, but also his best friend, or, depending on what version of the story you read, his lover!
& so, the great samurai Kobayashiâs wish was grantedâŚ
He became a legendary samuraiâŚ
Legendary for killing all of his friends, & then himself!
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