Chapter Text
Aki Province - Korikawa Valley, 1499
The early morning hours reached the small valley owned by the minor Jizamurai family named Korikawa, dim rays of sunlight hit the river that split the land into two, sending stray beams towards the small fort of Korikawayama. The villagers, even earlier risers than the Jizamurai, were already plowing the fields with the few oxen they called their own. In the distance, smoke rose into the air, stemming from the forges of Kaji-mura village. Amidst the busy mornings of the common people, Korikawayama was just as busy. The smell of oil, metal and just slightly blood was in the air. Officers yelled at the few Samurai residing there, cooks prepared the meals for the Daimyō and his family, and tutors ran after a particularly rebellious 5 year old.
The small residence at the top of the hill Korikawayama was built on was just as busy. The Hatamoto Hoseguards were having a drill outside. And even though if they were only a dozen, they thought of themself as an army of the size and strength Yamana Sōzen used to lead. At the head of the horseguards there stood Ichijō Kanemitsu. The middle aged man barked orders as he hit the wrists of soldiers with a long, bamboo stick he deemed 'too slow and cowardly to be in Korikawa-Dono's services'.
And in a small, secluded room within the Korikawa Residence, a man awoke - with hair in his mouth a limp arm. That man was Korikawa Toshirō Motohira, Iwashiro no Kami and the Daimyō of this minor family in Aki. He just lied on his futon in the dark room, looking up at the ceiling. And right beside him there was his wife - Uragami Tsuru, the older sister of Akamatsu Clan retainer Uragami Muramune. It was a stark contrast to the early years, how they are living together for example. 11 years, Motohira thought amazed, I managed to stay alive and happy with her for almost 11 years.
Motohira made a great effort to maneuver Tsuru off of him, which gained him a small, sleepy protest. But she was luckily still asleep. The 44 year old man couldn't help but stare at her back, the usually straight, black hair now messy with sleep. She was a woman of delicacy, exquisity and etiquette, and seemingly unfitting for the rough, direct and rural Korikawa Valley. But she fit in perfectly regardless, helped Motohira in countless ways; through famine, crisis, battles and the siege of 1491 by the Aki-Takeda. She was remarkable, Motohira thought, but maybe he was just biased. "Sleep a little longer, love." Motohira said and pressed a small kiss to her head.
Afterwards, Motohira straightened up. He was only clad in a dark blue of pants, made out of silk, and a opened yukata made out of the same material. As he picked up his Tantō and Katana from the ground next to the futon, he noticed that his obi sash was missing. "Where is it- ah! There it is!" Motohira retrieved said obi sash from next to the door. He wondered how it got there however. He arrived late home yesterday, Abbot Kangan of the Ryuzo-ji Monestary on the neighbouring hill wanted to loose at Go once again, so maybe he discarded of it quickly before getting into bed.
When he walked over to the shoji door, he already saw the silhouette of a young man kneeling in front of it, the sideways profile told Motohira who was kneeling there. "Tatsuhiro" Motohira called out for the page. Just a moment door, the door was pushed to the side. The young, twelve year old, clad in a grey hakama with a black haori, bowed down before Motohira, so his nose was touching the cedar wood. "Good morning! Korikawa-Sama!" Tatsuhiro said loudly, like he was pledging his loyalty once again. Even his chonmage swayed a bit as he said that.
Motohira stepped out into the outside, the shoji door immediately closing as he stepped out, and took in the beautiful countryside of Korikawa. He nodded once at Kanemitsu, who was admonishing a young Jizamurai, not older than fifteen, for some unknown reason. The man was known as a hothead. Motohira turned towards Tatsuhiro, giving the young man his sash and weapons. Tatsuhiro bowed his head wordlessly, and began to bind the sash around Motohira, sticking his blades into the sides afterwards. "Spare me the formalities, Tatsuhiro. I'm not the Shōgun. Nor are we in Kyōto, Kyōto's still burned to a crisp. The older man scolded the younger with no conviction whatsoever.
"As you wish, Korikawa-Sama." Tatsuhiro said and stood up, keeping a respectful distance between him and the ruler of this realm.
Motohira adjusted his Tantō a bit to the side. I have to remind Tatsuhiro that I don't like that the hilt presses directly into my old arrow wound, Motohira thought after. He hopped down the low veranda, his bare foot touching the cold gravel of the ground, and walked over to Kanemitsu and his Hatamoto, Tatsuhiro was following him with featherlight and practiced steps. The horseguardsmen fell to their knees when Motohira was in range, Kanemitsu himself bowed down so low his 50 year old body still allowed. "Good morning, Korikawa-Dono." Kanemitsu said.
"That to you too, Kanemitsu-San." Motohira said and scratched over his chin beard. "I hope you're treating my men well, we don't want them to flee battle when they see you on top of a horse."
"You know all too well that my old bones don't allow that anymore, not since that damn Takeda Motofuji shot me four arrow into my left leg." Kanemitsu said, looking disgruntled when the name 'Takeda Motofuji' left his mouth.
"Please spare all of us with that again, I need at least four cups of sake to endure another monologue of yours." Motohira chuckled and patted Kanemitsu on the shoulder. "And besides, that weak leg certainly doesn't keep you from wielding that massive Odachi."
"I know that myself." Kanemitsu chuckled and turned to the Jizamurai which still knelt the gravel. "But if those Hatamotos' of your employ should ever protect you, they should first learn how to fight with a Tachi!"
Motohira himself turned towards the Jizamurai himself. "Then I hope they're quick learners, or I will let some heads roll before mine does!"
"You heard Korikawa-Dono!" Kanemitsu barked. "Now get back on those horses and show me that you at least know how to wield a Yari!"
"Good, I expect utmost devotion to your training. Especially by the men of the Arate and Mizuno families!" Motohira declared before walking off, towards the path that led downhill.
Motohira eyed the lower part of Korikawayama; the wooden walls were covered in damp earth, a trick he was taught in Kyōto that made them not as vulnerable against flame arrows as normal wooden walls were. On the few towers his late father, Motokata, and his late older brother, Motōki, built before his time the few experienced archers stood, keeping watch over their homeland. The smell hit him after - fresh rice, miso and venison. Someone must've been hunting, something Motohira thought he should do more often. The few peasants that lived within the walls greeted Motohira with great respect, an action he mirrored. Tatsuhiro was right behind him all the time, until now at least, now he was walking right next to his lord through the dirt. "My Lord, you should take your sandals." He said and pulled them out of his hakama.
"Thank you." Motohira said and took the sandals, quickly slipping them onto his feet. "Now, where is Sōbei? I told him yesterday to meet up with Zenzaemon of Shimo-no-mura and return once I awake."
"Noguchi-Dono hasn't returned yet." Tatsuhiro reported. "And Hiraoka-Sama has expressed to me that he wishes to see you soon; regarding a dispute between a peasant and a Jizamurai."
"Alright." Motohira said and turned towards Tatsuhiro. "What about the Uragami?" He grimaced when the name of his wife's family left his mouth.
"We can expect an envoy in a few days, Uragami-Sama is even more persistent in asking for aid in his upcoming fight for Bizen against the Akamatsu." Tatsuhiro explained.
"So they are still after my family's lands?" Motohira sighed, clenching his teeth subconsciously. "My family has lived here ever since the time of Ashikaga Takauji. I'd rather die in a saddle here than die as a Uragami retainer or puppet!"
"Rest assured, Korikawa-Sama, this shall never happen. And I will give my life in protecting the Korikawa family and its people!" Tatsuhiro declared.
"Now, now, don't be too overeager. I've seen people in Kyōto get littered by arrows over that." Motohira said and waved his hand. "Go fetch my son, I'll see what Masatada has to tell me regarding this civil dispute."
Motohira made his way to a small building on the left side of Korikawayama. It was a versatile one; it was used for war councils, grain storage, refugees, to keep the people warm, and, in this case, to solve judicial disputes. When he stepped inside, he already knew this would be a long council. Hiraoka Masatada was already seated in front of the giant Korikawa Mon painted on the wall at the end of the room - a river with a tree on top of it. Then there was the involved peasant, sitting next to the involved Jizamurai - that Jizamurai was Mizuno Narikata however, head of the Mizuno family. The 37 year old man, still clad in his late father's Ō-Yoroi armor, was the best bowman of the whole valley, the Mizuno clan was with 40 archers one of the most powerful families serving the Korikawa. Motohira knew, if he'd do one wrong thing, he might risk rebellion or brutal backclash.
Among the people within the room, sitting left and right on the elevated platform in front of the painted Mon, there were Abbot Kangan and Arate Mitsuyoshi - head of the Arate family, father of Tatsuhiro, and presumably loyal subject. The 50 year old Jizamurai was clad in a red hakama and a grey jinbaori, he clutched the hilt of his Tachi like it was his life depended on it. His gaze was both hateful and shameful, directed towards the Sohei Monk that accompanied Abbot Kangan - Arate Juubei. The man was convicted of raping and murdering the wife of swordsmith Tatsumi of Kaji-mura, set to be beheaded publicly. But Juubei escaped, finding refuge and faith in the Ryuzo-ji Monestary. Motohira clenched his fists when he saw Juubei, but he couldn't do anything without risking a religious war, especially with Takeda Motofuji and Amago Tsunehisa breathing down his neck. Masatada shuffled sideways, making space for Motohira in front of the big Korikawa Mon. Motohira sat down, crosslegged, and set his Katana down to his left, before looking at Mizuno Narikata and the peasent he recognized as Shiro.
"It is good to see you, Korikawa-San." Masatada said, his voice audibly strained and rusty after 66 years of life.
"You too, Masatada-San. Now, why was I wished to attend this council?" Motohira asked, looking back and forth between Shiro and Narikata.
"This man has accused Mizuno-Dono of cutting off his son's arm, because they were hunting in the Mizuno family's forest. By accident, he claims." Masatada said, already writing it down on a paper scroll with surprisingly steady hands.
"It was my right to punish two poachers!" Narikata said loudly, a few droplets of spit hit the old and worn down tatami mats. "I see no problem, I didn't kill him! So it was merciful even!"
Against everyone's expectations, Motohira turned towards Shiro first. "Is what Mizuno-Dono claims right? Were you two poaching in the lands of our greatest archers?"
Shiro stuttered a bit, clearly as surprised as everyone else present that his lord would talk to a lowly peasent first. "Not quite, Korikawa-Sama. I, and my son Takaie, were trying to fetch ourselves some berries and firewood - you see, my wife is pregnant and complained about coldness in our house. But then Mizuno-Sama and his hunting party found us, we didn't know that the forest was owned by the Mizuno, if we would've known then we would've never even come close to it. We offered to leave, to leave the wood and berries behind too, but Mizuno-Sama wanted to make an example. So he cut my son's arm off, we luckily managed to save him, but he will never be able to work on the fields again."
Narikata was boiling with rage, his red face made a stark contract to his green armor. Before anyone could react, Narikata rose to his feet and grabbed Shiro by the collar. The Jizamurai had his hand resting on the hilt of Tachi, murderous rage simmered within his dark brown eyes. "That lying maggot! I did no such thing!" Narikata yelled and threw Shiro to the ground. "If I am a murderer, then what is he?!" He damanded and pointed directly at Juubei, who was cleaning the blade of his Naginata.
"Narikata-Dono!" Masatada's stern voice cut through the thick tension, even though he was still writing, no one dared to even breathe. "Sit down, or I will have you stripped and whipped!"
Motohira slowly let his hands travel to his Katana, looking calmly at the still fuming Narikata. Eventually, Narikata slumped to the ground with an enraged huff. "You have heard Masatada-San. And while I respect your standing as head of the Mizuno family, remind me again who saved your father in the face of a burning Kyōto." Motohira said, opening his fan, engraved with the Korikawa and Ōuchi Mons, and began to shallowly fan air into his face.
"Your brother, Motōki." Narikata grumbled and relented the grip on his Tachi.
"Exactly, so I expect some respect from you in this council, one that was caused by your decisions." Motohira said seriously.
"So, what is your decision then, Korikawa-San?" Masatada asked, and stopped writing for second.
"The Mizuno family is now obligated to feed Shiro's family, even in winter. Additionally, Mizuno-Dono is to mark his hunting grounds, so future disagreements won't occur." Motohira declared.
Narikata rose to his feet first, his fists and teeth clenched in humiliation. He was off the hook, but now he had to provide for four people that weren't in his family nor his service. He stormed out of the room with a half-hearted goodbye, the clacking of hooves could be heard outside moments later. Shiro left afterwards, but only after thanking Motohira profusely. Masatada was next, he worldlessly collected his scrolls, ink and brushes before leaving through a side door. Only Mitsuyoshi, Kangan and Juubei remained seated. Motohira didn't offer the two Monks a glance. "What is it of matter that still remains, Kangan-San." Motohira asked in a tired voice.
Kangan shuffled foward until he was sitting on his knees in front of Motohira, the young and ambitious Monk scratched over his bald head, the wooden beads around his hands clacking together due to that, before speaking up. "It was a very wise decision that you have made, Motohira-Sama, you successfully kept our home at peace. But regarding Lord Mizuno's earlier outburst...I must say, my brothers and sisters don't feel safe anymore, so perhaps we could expand our land a bit more..."
"Expand? You already control a third of my late brother's lands, of my lands!" Motohira snapped, to Kangan's dislike of course.
"I didn't mean it like that, Motohira-Sama..." Kangan said with a worried smile, putting up his hands to defuse the situation.
"I hope so, and you will adress me as Korikawa-Sama! I am not your friend, Kangan. I merely respect you because I don't want to risk the people revolting." Motohira said sharply. "And besides, it wouldn't look good on you if the Monk who employs a convicted murderer and rapist was to seize more ricefields of my people and Jizamurai."
Juubei looked up from his Naginata, directly at Motohira and his own brother Mitsuyoshi. There was still this murderous and smug glint in his eyes that made Motohira grasp his Tantō's hilt. "What are you implying, Motohira? I am a new man, I am Zanshō now. Any alledged guilt was forgiven by Buddha the moment I shaved my head."
That hit a nerve within Mitsuyoshi, because the enraged man rose to his feet and pulled out his Tachi in one swift motion. "Changed?!" He spat. "You are still the same, Juubei; sick, twisted, sadistic and disgusting!"
Mitsuyoshi charged forward, his blade ready to strike his brother down. But Juubei, in typical Arate fashion, was faster and better with a spear. In one swift move, the wooden hilt of Juubei's Naginata hit Mitsuyoshi in the face, sending the man tumbling to the ground. Just as Juubei aimed the sharp and curved tip of his Naginata towards Mitsuyoshi, the Monk registered the feeling of cold steel - steel made by the man whose wife he killed - on the back of his neck.
"I would be very careful now, Monk. I am willing to cut you down, and burn down your Monestary if you hurt one of my vassals." Motohira said calmly, his sharp blade of his Katana grazing the Monk's neck, cutting open a small, fine wound.
Juubei let out a bitter chuckle, moving the sharp tip of his Naginata away from Mitsuyoshi. He turned around, looking at Motohira like he owned the world. "Are you threatening me, Motohira?"
"I might just be doing exactly that, do you want to risk arguing now?" Motohira shot back.
"Zanshō!" Kangan's voice cut through the tension. "We are leaving, apologize to the Samurai. And adress Korikawa-Sama as Korikawa-Sama."
Juubei and Kangan left afterwards, only after Juubei mumbled a half-assed apology that was more a teasing threat. Motohira sheathed his Katana after, stretching out his arm for Mitsuyoshi to hold onto. The lord of the Arate family bled out of his nose, but took Motohira's hand gratefully, bowing down slightly when he got back to his feet. Motohira crossed his arms, sighing because of the situation. "Your brother is a big problem for us, Arate-Dono." He said and brushed over his black full beard, pulling at a patch of grey hair that slowly began to appear with age.
"I know that too, Korikawa-Sama. But we cannot do anything, Kangan has gotten far too powerful, and Mizuno-Dono is now enraged, given your decision." Mitsuyoshi said and brushed over his small moustache.
"I know that myself, but if I would've taken Mizuno-Dono's side, then Zenzaemon and Kangan would've painted me as a unrightful tyrant." Motohira explained.
"It's painful to see him walk around, clad in white Monk robes. It's insulting." Mitsuyoshi cursed and looked down in shame. "And Tatsumi doesn't even know Juubei killed and raped his wife."
"I know, but we can't do anything. If the Monestary stays peaceful, so do we." Motohira said and walked over to the shoji door. He turned around briefly before opening however. "Stay strong, Arate-Dono, the alternative is death." And then, he opened the door and left the situation behind.
Motohira usually took in the scenery of his lands, how the people were working, and how everything on the surface seemed to work like clockwork. But today wasn't one of these days. Just as he stepped outside, he felt something small hit him square in the gut - blowing all the air out of his rusty lungs. Motohira stumbled back slightly when he felt two small arms wrap around him. Looking down, he was met with the gap-toothed, mishievous grin of his son - Ushimaru. The young 5 year old was wearing a sky-blue yukata, his black hair not quite long enough to bind it back into a chonmage. "Hello, father!" Ushimaru said, excitement filling his voice and every step.
Motohira put his big hand on his son's head, ruffling his hair before pulling him off of him. "Good morning to you too, Ushimaru. But what did I teach you about greeting people, and especially people of my standing?"
Ushimaru backed away a bit, not sorry at all, and bowed before Motohira before jerking back up just as quickly. "Like that?" He asked, a cheeky smile creeping up on his face.
Mitohira chuckled and pulled Ushimaru up by his waist, sitting the boy on his shoulders and holding him there by his legs. "You're just like your mother." He said and shook his head amused. "How am I going to survive in this family?"
"Motohira! Ushimaru!"
Both men, both young and old, looked over to the right, where the source of the stern voice came from. Tsuru was walking down the hill, each step more graceful and elegant than the last. Her face bore something Motohira liked to call her cracked facade; there was her strict expression, brandished by etiquette, pressure and her standing as a woman of higher class in a rural area. But there also was something else, something softer and kinder. Someone else was accompanying her however - Korikawa Hina, the 10 year old daughter of Motohira and Tsuru. She mirrored her mother in posture, beauty and education, but she was just as quiet, focused, furicious and serious as Motohira was. She was wearing a red silk kimono, engraved with the Mons of the Korikawa and Uragami. But truth be told, it was once owned by Tsuru, and Tsuru was wearing the same kimono. Only really because the Korikawa couldn't justify importing expensive silk from Yamaguchi, Himeji or even Uchi in Satsuma.
"Tsuru!" Motohira said with a, rare, smile when he reached the two woman he loved more than anything in his life. "Did you sleep well?"
"I did." Tsuru said and tapped her black fan on her chin, a slightly teasing tone was evident. "But I woke up without my flesh pillow."
Motohira snorted and put Ushimaru down, waving him off to go play with Hina, or whatever kids do these days, Motohira had no idea. "Well, I am sorry, Lady Uragami. I had an unpleasent meeting with Mizuno-Dobo and Arate Juubei."
Tsuru looked concerned when the name Arate Juubei came out of his mouth. "Are you alright? Did he try anything?" She asked and clutched his shoulders, looking him up and down profusely. "Did you try anything?"
Motohira sighed and sat both of them down on the veranda of the building he just left. "He's just way too smug about killing Kiku, poor Tatsumi has been drowning himself and producing Yari tips, arrow tips and Katanas. It's eating me and Arate-Dono up that he doesn't even know that Juubei's behind it." He explained and slumped down a bit. "At least Sōbei's been there for him."
"And you didn't explode?" Tsuru inquired, then narrowing her eyes at his expression. "You did." She stated. "And Arate Mitsuyoshi was present too."
"You are right." Motohira said. "And that's not even the worst what happened today; Mizuno-Dono cut off the arm of Shiro's son, because they stumbled into his forest."
"Shiro..." Tsuru mumbled, like she was tasting the name on her tongue. "Isn't that Zenzaemon's cousin?"
"By marriage." Motohira corrected her. "I sided with him, partially. The Mizuno are now responsible to feed his family."
Tsuru was quiet for a bit, she bit down on the inside of her cheek - a telltale sign that she was deeply in thought. "Not the best choice." She stated and looked at him. "But also not the worst. Abbot Kangan always tried to get closer with that damn Narikata, you just delivered him the feud between the houses Mizuno and Korikawa to achieve that plan."
"I know that myself. But what was I supposed to do? If I would've sided with the Mizuno, then we would've lost Shimo-no-mura." Motohira asked.
"I know." Tsuru sighed and, just slightly hesitantly, rested her head on his shoulder. It was rare and scandalous; couples openly showing affection, but the valley, the families and the two didn't care. "We've had some rough years."
Motohira exhaled through his nose bitterly. "I don't think I've had a good year since the Hosokawa and Yamana stopped ruining the ruined capital even more." He sighed and felt a slap on his chest a second later. "Uh! I mean, of course my years with you by my side were the best of my life!"
Tsuru chuckled lightly. "That's what I thought."
"No, but that aside. Ever since I turned 22, I have felt more like a Daimyō with the problems of Shōgun Yoshimasa." Motohira said.
"But you're not like him - Ashikaga Yoshimasa didn't care about his country and people, you do." Tsuru said and rested her hand on his chest.
"I don't know, maybe I would have, if Motōki wouldn't have died saving all of us when we withdrew from Yamashiro." Motohira said and pointed towards the west, where Yamaguchi lied. "Imagine it; me writing endless haikus, painting portraits and dying in some grand intrigue."
"I like you more as my tired husband." Tsuru stated and stood back up. "I have to go now, I promised Hina to train with her with the Naginata."
"Good luck the-." Motohira said, but he was caught off guard by Kanemitsu who nodded him over to him. Motohira excused himself and walked over to the old Jizamurai.
"Korikawa-Dono." Kanemitsu said and lead them towards the stables. "I hope you heard from your page that Noguchi-San is missing."
"I heard, but I sent him to Shimo-no-mura yesterday evening. Zenzaemon complained about the taxes yet again, and I hoped that a Jizamurai that comes from the peasent estate would be a good mediator." Motohira said when they entered the stables. Kanemitsu didn't even acknowledge the stable boy, he just sent him outside while he grasped his saddle.
"Which in theory is a good idea, but I still cannot trust someone like Sōbei. And I still can't wrap my head around the fact that you gave him the name of the prestigious Noguchi family." Kanemitsu said and fastened the belts of his saddle after he put it on his sturdy war horse's back.
"You know my decision is law when it comes to vasalls. And he proved himself throughout the years. The people adore him and he is good with Kangan." Motohira said and walked over to his own horse.
His horse was an imported, black pony from the mountains of Kiso. Named Kurokaze. While it was rather small, it made it up with sturdiness, fearlessness, endurance and speed. Motohira quickly saddled Kurokaze and straddled his back. Kanemitsu and Motohira rode out of the stable, towards the main gate.
"There is one problem however." Kanemitsu said. "Sōbei tends to drink far too much."
"We all have our flaws." Motohira said when they reached the gate. "Open the gate! We are heading to Shimo-no-mura! While I'm gone, Arate Mitsuyoshi will be the Jōdai!"
"Understood, Korikawa-Sama!" The Jizamurai at the gates said and pushed them open.
Kanemitsu and Motohira began to ride down the muddy paths of their homeland. They passed the Mizuno estate before reaching Shimo-no-mura, the yellow sashimono banners of the estate standing in the distance like an army of the thousands. They also heard the bells of the Monestary, the echo serving as an reminder of today's events. Eventually, when they were only mere minutes away from their destination, the two Samurai slowed down by a bit.
"Do you still remember the day we returned in 1477, Korikawa-Dono?" Kanemitsu asked and tugged at the hilt of his Tachi, adjusting it a bit to the side.
"Oh, yeah. After we nearly died throughout the journey. What started off as 5000 Jizamurai in 1467, turned into barely a dozen just a decade later. I was made Iwashiro no Kami, but lost the majority of my father's and brother's lands once the vasalls heard from Motōki's death. It's a shame, thinking about it, we went from the second strongest in Aki to one of the weaker ones."
"I wouldn't say we're weak. We still have our spirit, honor and economical basis." Kanemitsu said, trying to lighten the mood.
"I don't know about that. My brother could muster 6000 men, I can barely muster 650." Motohira sighed.
The two men continued in silence afterwards, neither of them knowing how to proceed with this conversation. If Motohira was being honest, he felt inferior to his late brother. Motōki was the warrior, the brilliant ruler, the one who was almost made Shugodai of Aki, instead of the Aki-Takeda. Motohira, he was just the second brother who would've ended up as some lower politician in Kyōto or Yamaguchi. He wasn't even supposed to stay a full decade in Yamashiro, to have his genpuku in a burned down temple, but no one knew the severity of the feud between Hosokawa and Yamana. Days before the war officially ended, they were attacked; killing Motōki and their father Motokata who was already sickly. And in late 1477, there Motohira stood; Daimyō, crisis manager and local joke before Tsuru straightened the clan up.
They arrived in Shimo-no-mura afterwards. It was the biggest village in the valley, almost 500 people lived there. Zenzaemon wasn't just the village elder, he was the head of a state within a state. And no one could do anything about it, because Shimo-no-mura controlled over half the fields that fed everyone. Luckily for the Korikawa however, the people loved Motohira and his predictable taxes. Well, everyone except Zenzaemon. He was more like a merchant, always trying to lower the prices of everything for himself. That's where Sōbei and his alcoholism came in clutch, he could drink everyone under the table and get them to agree to his and in turn Motohira's wishes. It may be unmoral and dishonorable, but almost no one in this valley could even spell either.
"Where does Zenzaemon live again? It's been a while since I've been here." Kanemitsu asked and got off his horse, mud splashing on his feet and lower legs when he hit the ground.
"He wants to be a Samurai, so he built himself a estate in the former temple." Motohira said and got off his horse too, without splashing mud on himself however. "If I'm being honest, I dislike him."
"Who likes him? We barely even tolerate him." Kanemitsu asked.
"I know." Motohira replied and tugged at his hair, eventually getting fed up with his chonmage and tugging it off completely, letting his long black-grey hair fall just slightly past his shoulders. "But we have to keep face just as much as he does. Open rebellion is bad for business, and he knows that."
They walked to the small, walled off temple complex that lied in the back of Shimo-no-mura. They were offered countless gifts by the people, or free food by the vendors. It was an attempt to gain their goodwill, or maybe get the two indebted. No one helped anyone out of their hearts, it was just purely transactional. When they arrived, they found a strange sight; two men, wearing black Dō chestplates, and a black, metal Jingasa Kabutos, and wielding a three meter long Nagae-Yari. They crossed their spears in front of the gate, treating them like common folk and keeping them from entering.
"Who goes there?" The left man asked.
"Korikawa Toshirō Motohira, your Lord." Motohira said, staring daggers at them.
"Ichijō Kanemitsu, also your Lord." Kanemitsu said.
"Hey, man. Those are Samurais too, even Korikawa-Sama is now here." The right man said and moved his spear away from the gate.
"Are you two with Sōbei?" The left man asked, keeping his spear put.
"Listen to me, peasent. If you don't put that thing away in five seconds, I will cut you into two with my Odachi!" Kanemitsu demanded and grasped the hilt of said Odachi he was carrying.
"Fine! Zenzaemon-Sama is in the main building!" The left man said and moved his spear away too.
Kanemitsu and Motohira walked through the gate, just in time to see the front door being slid to the side. Noguchi Sōbei stumbled out of the house, swaying from side to side, almost tumbling to the ground. Sōbei was a tall and strong man, marked by years of tough field work that he had to do just two years ago. He wore a brown, simple hakama and a crooked, white headband which's knot was over his right eye. He grinned at the two older Samurai, he was about twenty years younger, something that made his badly shaven beard stick out - there were patches of scars, longer hair, trimmed hair and nothing at all. It didn't embody the looks of a Samurai at all.
"Korikawa-Samaaaa!" Sōbei slurred and fell forward, right into Kanemitsu's arms.
"See, Korikawa-Dono, what did I tell you?" Kanemitsu sighed and slung Sōbei directly over his shoulder, like he was weighing nothing. "You can't count on him."
"Hey! Let me down, ya old man!" Sōbei complained like a child when they left the estate, walking back to their horses.
Kanemitsu snorted and sat Sōbei on his horse, getting on it right after. "You act like a child, Noguchi-Dono. I hope this is one of your grand acting shemes, not you being seriously drunk."
Sōbei laughed, sounding more put together now. He adjusted his headband, fastened the loose belt of his hakama and lastly simply yawned from exhaustion. "It is, Ichijō-Dono. I have to admit, Zenzaemon has an rediculous alcohol tolerance. We went through three bottles before he bowed before me and accepted my, I mean Korikawa-Sama's, demands."
"Good, then tell us about it." Motohira said and got on his horse, directing them out of Shimo-no-mura.
"Zenzaemon is accepting our raised taxes, given the threat of the Takeda and Amago which affect him too. I bet you have seen his soldiers - he has six armed men, loyal to only his money however. He claims they're for defense against the bandits that have been moving throughout Toge-mura. As we have expected, Abbot Kangan has visited him. I have seen gifts that only the Monestary or the Mizuno and Arate could afford. But given the loyalty of both families, I suspect the Ryuzo-ji Monestary." Sōbei explained.
"Well, we have lost the loyalty of the Mizuno. I hope not all too much, but I enfuriated Mizuno-Dono." Motohira said.
"How did that happen?" Sōbei inquired.
"He cut off a peasen't arm, and that peasent was the son of Zenzaemon's cousin, Shiro." Motohira replied.
"And you sided with Shiro to keep the peace, which in turn brought Mizuno-Dono against you and let him drift towards Kangan." Sōbei explained.
"Indeed." Motohira agreed.
"This is really bad, but I'm sure you know that already. You should get back, I will go to the Mizuno and try to mend things." Sōbei said.
"Good luck, Sōbei. Kanemitsu, I want you to go with him, try to find a solution with Mizuno-Dono." Motohira ordered.
"Understood." Kanemitsu and Sōbei said in unison, riding away afterwards.
Later that day, when the sun slowly disappeared behind the mountains of Toge-mura, Motohira allowed himself to feel at peace for just a few hours. He was sitting on the veranda of his residence, his head resting on his knee, which he pulled to his chest. The small garden his father once built after the gardens of Kyōto was filled with the sounds of steel being carefully hit against eachother. He was looking at Tsuru and Hina, both clad in armor and wielding a Naginata, while they were practicing Naginata combat. Ushimaru was lying on his left thigh, sleeping soundly and slightly drooling out of his mouth. In times of uncertainty and instability, Motohira loved these moments more than anything.