After moving into the room the toiya-basho had arranged for him, Aoto borrowed paper and a brush and prepared to report today’s attack to the Magistrate’s Office in Edo by letter.

Being surrounded and attacked by eight members of the radical Expel the Barbarians faction—Aoto had no reason, nor could he afford, to delay reporting this to the Magistrate’s Office immediately.

After all, letting the office that was currently cracking down on the radical faction know about these lunatics as early and as thoroughly as possible would also work in Aoto’s favor.

He wrote in detail about exactly when and where he was attacked, how many assailants there were, how he managed to reverse the situation and kill them, and then asked for the Magistrate’s Office’s instructions on what to do next. Aoto handed the letter to a hired courier who worked for the toiya-basho and was employed by the government, instructing him to deliver it to the Kita Bansho in Edo at once.

[Note: Hikyaku — couriers in the Edo Period who transported letters, money, remittances, and goods; their network covered major cities across Japan.]

While Aoto was busy making his report to the Kita Bansho—

……

……

Not far from Shinagawa-shuku, in a section of mountain forest, there was a lone cave barely wide enough for three adults to stand shoulder to shoulder.

The cave looked unremarkable at first glance, but it hid more than met the eye.

A dozen or so swordsmen, blades hanging at their waists, were spread out among the shadows outside the cave, keeping watch and preventing anyone unrelated from approaching.

If one followed the not-very-long tunnel to its end, points of light could be seen.

On the rock wall at the deepest part of the cave, a few oil lamps hung to light the place.

Beneath the lamps, faces wearing a variety of expressions peered out.

At the deepest point of the cave, a group of a dozen or so samurai had gathered.

These dozen sat along both sides of the cavern.

One extremely burly young man sat astride the head seat on a large stone, in a manner meant to dominate the samurai seated along both sides.

This young man’s stature far exceeded the era’s average—not losing out even to Saitō—standing a little over 1.8 meters tall. Compared with the other samurai in the cave, who were mostly around 1.5 meters, his presence was oppressive.

Of course—what made him even more imposing was the big scar across his face.

A menacing scar, like a centipede’s trail, sliced from the left corner of his mouth up to the right corner of his eye as if trying to tear his face apart.

The young man sat on a big rock, hands resting on his knees, rhythmically tapping his right leg’s kneecap with his right forefinger.

A cold, dispassionate stare fell upon a short samurai kneeling before him, the smaller man trembling slightly.

If Saitō were here now, he would surely find this kneeling samurai familiar—this was the short man who had fled from under his blade.

“…So then… Oomae-kun, you ran away from the battle?” the young man said.

As soon as the words left him, the already-shivering short man stammered even more:

“Mr. Jinno! I… I… I…”

The short man tried to defend himself, but he mumbled for a long time without producing a single coherent sentence; his face turned an ugly dark red.

The young man addressed as “Jinno” inhaled deeply and then slowly exhaled.

“So… that traitor Tachibana Aoto found himself quite a capable bodyguard, huh…”

“You say that at the time you were flanking Aoto and that bodyguard from front and rear—before you fled, did you see what happened to the other four who were in front of Aoto?”

“I… I… I didn’t pay attention…” the short man stammered.

“That figures, since you were busy running away.”

The short man bowed his head lower.

“Since Aoto found himself a fairly competent bodyguard… I’d say the other four probably didn’t end well.”

Jinno curled his lip.

“That Tachibana Aoto is clever… he even found himself a bodyguard.”

“Tch… we’ve organized three assassination attempts against Aoto so far, and every one failed… That traitor sure is tenacious.”

Jinno lowered his gaze and looked again at the still-shivering short man.

“Oomae-kun, I’m truly disappointed in you.”

“How can a samurai run away from the fight?”

“Mr. Jinno!” the short man stuttered, “The bodyguard Tachibana hired was just too strong! We couldn’t beat him! We…”

“Couldn’t beat him? So you couldn’t at least die honorably in battle?” Jinno slowly rose to his feet.

“I have nothing more to say to you.”

With that he pulled something from his waist and tossed it in front of the short man.

The short man’s eyes registered what Jinno had thrown; his already pale face drained to a whiteness even more ghastly than snow.

It was a short blade without a hilt.

A short blade… the kind every samurai would recognize as meant for a specific act.

Jinno spoke to him in a tone that made it sound matter-of-fact:

“Oomae-kun, commit seppuku.”

“Mr. Jinno!” the short man lifted his head and cried out in a cracked voice, “Please give me another chance! I won’t—”

“You won’t have another chance.” Jinno said. “When the Anti-Foreigner Squad was founded, we made our rule clear: those who abandon comrades in battle—seppuku!”

“Either die with the dignity of a samurai by performing seppuku, or cowardly be cut down by our blades—choose.”

Jinno’s indifferent words were like invisible knives.

The short man’s lips had already turned grayish-white; he glanced around at his companions sitting on both sides of the cave.

The men who met his beseeching eyes either quickly looked down as if they hadn’t seen him, staring at their own noses and concentrating on themselves, or locked eyes with him with the same cold indifference as Jinno.

“Oomae-kun.” Jinno’s tone grew impatient, “Decide quickly.”

He slowly rested his left hand on the hilt of his worn sword at his waist.

“If you still consider yourself a samurai, then quickly make a clean cut across your belly.”

Those first words—“If you still consider yourself a samurai”—seemed to carry some strange power. The short man stiffened.

He turned his conflicted, pained, desperate gaze to the short blade Jinno had tossed before him.

Resolve and harshness rose gradually across the short man’s features.

He pulled open his shirt, exposed his torso, and seized the short blade that had no hilt.

“Hmph… at least you have some backbone.” Jinno’s mouth tilted in a small approving smile. “Since you finally stopped being foolish… I will be the kaishakunin for you.”

With that, Jinno stepped across and stood slightly behind the short man.

Seppuku is an excruciatingly painful death.

After one cuts open the belly, it often takes half an hour to an hour for exsanguination to kill the person.

Enduring the agony of gutting one’s abdomen and intestines for that long—only a few can hold out.

Thus the kaishakunin came into being.

The kaishakunin’s duty is to deliver the finishing blow immediately after the self-inflicted cut, severing the head and ending the suffering.

The short man gripped the blade with both hands and pressed the tip against the left side of his abdomen.

He straightened his back, raised his chin, trying to put on a bravely resigned air, but his small frame trembled uncontrollably.

He bit down, howled, and plunged the short blade into his belly in one motion.

The composed, dignified look he tried to present vanished instantly.

His eyes went wide, the whites reddened, his nostrils flared, cheeks flushed, jaws clenched until two little mounds rose at his cheeks.

Low gasps escaped from between his teeth.

His rigid body fell forward; his forehead struck the gritty rock as if that might relieve his pain.

“Ji… Jinno… sensei…” the short man’s voice sounded as if it aged fifty years in a single breath, “I… I can’t… Please… kaishaku me…”

Jinno stood behind him with the blade prepared, still looking down at the short man with the same cold gaze.

“Oomae-kun, you are one of us in the Anti-Foreigner Squad; you should be very familiar with our rules, yes?”

“Why are so many barbarians allowed to march openly onto our soil? Why has this country fallen to such a state?”

“Because the samurai who were supposed to protect this nation have degenerated.”

“Samurai no longer look or act like samurai; samurai have lost their spirit.”

“We, the righteous, gathered to expel all barbarians, restore the samurai way, and make barbarians afraid to come and offend us—that is why we formed the Anti-Foreigner Squad.”

“To set an example for the world, when we founded the Squad we swore: never to do anything unbecoming of a samurai.”

“Even in seppuku, we shall demonstrate the spirit a samurai must have.”

“Therefore, we set explicit rules: when performing seppuku, you may request the kaishakunin only after completing at least the initial ‘ichi-ji cut’.”

“Oomae-kun, put away that pleading look.”

“Until you complete the ‘ichi-ji cut,’ I will not strike.”

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep