Chapter 341: Picking Up a Musashi
The ox in the lead walked with a calm and seasoned air, its slow, steady steps pulling a wooden cart laden with cargo. The rope harness creaked as it moved forward, and the wooden wheels turned with a rhythmic clatter-clatter.
Four or five carts followed, packed with wooden crates and boxes containing various goods. There were daily necessities like cotton and linen fabrics, as well as expensive silks and gemstones, all packaged to different specifications, categorized on different carts, and secured tightly with ropes to the flatbeds.
At the very front of the caravan was a luxurious redwood carriage with a roof to provide shade and shelter from the rain. Judging by its size, the interior was likely spacious enough for several adults to roll around in. It was said that tea and snacks were served inside, making it as convenient and enjoyable as a modern-day stretch limousine.
Aside from the drivers, the accompanying personnel included stewards responsible for overseeing and registering the cargo.
On either side of the caravan rode two robust men on horseback. Tarnished scabbards hung from their saddles, housing katanas with stained hilts. They appeared to be masterless ronin, likely bodyguards hired by the merchant.
Relying on the protection of these two, the caravan had made it this far.
At that moment, the merchant lord poked his head out of the window and looked ahead.
"It's been quite a peaceful journey. Everyone says there's constant war outside, with bandits roaming about making travel dangerous, but if I never dared to make a run for it, I'd never have built the business I have now," the merchant said with a somewhat smug smile.
"Of course, Boss! You definitely made the right choice hiring our bodyguard troupe! Those bandits saw us brothers here and didn't dare show their faces," the bearded man said with a hearty laugh.
The bald man with a facial scar beside him nodded in agreement. "It seems our reputation has spread beyond the city; even the outlaws of the greenwood know of us."
"Indeed, indeed. It's all thanks to you brave warriors. Men of talent like yourselves are sure to make a fortune in the future." The merchant was as polite as ever—praising people cost nothing, so he happily flattered the men with a few more kind words.
"That's for sure! You won't find another bodyguard service that handles the labor of moving the goods as well as we do, even if you searched the whole city." The two men looked at each other and burst into laughter.
"..." Sitting at the very back, Shirou glanced forward and raised an eyebrow.
At that moment, the bushes ahead shook violently, rustling loudly.
The merchant quickly pulled his head back into the carriage.
"Hold on! Enemy attack! Stop!"
"Stop the ox carts!!"
The scarred bald man and the bearded man pulled hard on their reins, causing the horses to let out sharp cries of pain as they reared up, finally coming to a halt. They drew their long blades, swinging them wildly up and down, nearly hacking into the merchant's carriage several times. Terrified, the merchant—who had intended to peek out—quickly ducked back inside.
Just then, a dark shadow gradually crawled out from the bushes. It looked like the form of some massive beast!
"It's a wild animal! Everyone! Jump down and grab your sticks and whips! Prepare for battle! Charge when I give the word!" The scarred man shouted orders to the people behind him from atop his horse.
"Hey, you, the new blacksmith! Strong lad, draw your sword! How about you lead the charge?" The bearded man pointed toward the back at a young man who was clearly taller and more muscular than the others, making the suggestion.
Seeing this, the driver of the last ox cart jumped clear. Shirou pointed at himself helplessly and asked, "Are you talking to me?"
"That's right! You! Get over here and stand in front of me," the bearded man shouted, waving his long blade.
"Why? Aren't you two the bodyguards for the caravan?"
The bald, scarred man chimed in, speaking harshly, "Too much talk! If we leave our posts, who will protect the Boss? you've been hitching a ride for so long, haven't you thought about repaying the caravan? If you're an ungrateful brat, I'll cut you down right now!"
"They're right. Go on, young man! I'll pay you a reward." The merchant poked his head out of the rear window on the other side, waving a plump, round hand.
'So the bodyguards you hired only protect you personally?'
Shirou shrugged helplessly and walked forward, bypassing the mounted bodyguards.
"I mean, I can, but..."
Shirou walked straight to the back of the bushes, pushed aside the tall grass, and looked up. "The thing in here is actually a person."
Everyone looked. The figure in the grass was actually a young lady wearing a magnificent purple-red kimono. She had bright pink hair tied back with red hair ornaments, possessing a face that would be considered top-tier beauty even in a later era.
However, at this moment, the woman was lying on the weed-covered mud, her hands clutching her stomach, which let out a mournful growl-growl-growl. It was quite the mood-killer.
"Hey, Musashi, you okay?" Shirou asked, patting the woman on the shoulder.
"Help... help... I haven't... eaten anything... in three days..." the pink-haired girl managed to say with great difficulty.
"Ah..." Shirou felt around his person. As expected... his upper body was bare except for a cloak. While it looked cool, there was nowhere to store anything. Currently, he carried nothing but a katana that could not be easily drawn.
"Can't be helped then." Shirou took the sword from his waist, holding it in his left hand. Then, he bent down, hooked his right arm around her, and slung Musashi over his shoulder, walking back to the caravan.
"Boss, this person is very weak and hasn't eaten for a long time. Lend me some food. Or, take this sword as collateral. It's an unusable blade, but it's made of top-quality materials; it should be worth some money as a decoration." As Shirou spoke, he handed over the sword he was holding in his left hand.
"Eh!" The merchant saw the hilt with its beautiful carvings and the exquisite scabbard that was clearly crafted with great care. It was a stark contrast to the filthy junk held by his two bodyguards, which had clearly been scavenged from a battlefield.
It was precisely because he had seen this sword earlier that he had wanted to hire Shirou, hoping to replace the two unreliable ronin he had hired on the cheap.
And now, this swordsmith was proactively offering to sell the sword to him, and the price was merely a few meals.
Never expecting such a stroke of luck, the merchant opened his mouth to agree immediately. However, at that moment, the woman Shirou was carrying shifted and lifted her head. When the merchant saw her, his eyes widened. If he hadn't sucked it back in time, he would have drooled. She was like a goddess descended from heaven; perhaps even the best geisha in Osaka wasn't as beautiful as her.
He never expected to find such a beautiful woman in the countryside, and literally "picked up" from the side of the road. Looking closely, her clothes seemed to have feathers? Could this be a story like The Crane's Return of a Favor! Even if there was no favor to return, just holding her would be nice. If he took her home, his rivals would probably pull their hair out in jealousy.
The merchant stroked his small mustache, the idea taking root in his mind.
Today's journey was full of surprises.
Did he want the sword? Or the girl?
As a seasoned merchant who had weathered many storms in the sea of commerce, he made a decisive choice: He wanted the sword! And he wanted the girl!
Dropping his previous stinginess, the merchant laughed and said, "Warrior, what are you saying? When traveling, we must help one another. What is a little food? Forget dry rations—I have soft cakes made of high-quality glutinous rice and tea in my carriage. They are perfect for her current condition. Just..."
The merchant really wanted to say, "Let go of her and let me do it," but gauging Musashi's height and the two swords at her waist, and knowing that he—short, fat, and round—had nothing but money and certainly couldn't carry her, he changed his tune. "Just help carry her into my carriage."
"I understand. Thank you for your generosity!"
"Put her down first; I'll have someone bring more food." The merchant stepped out. Shirou hoisted Musashi, jumped onto the ancient "luxury car," exchanged a brief nod with the scarred bald man watching him, and ducked through the cloth curtain.
The interior was indeed spacious, with long benches on both sides covered in cotton cloth, suitable for lying down comfortably. Shirou placed Musashi on one, then nudged her, but he couldn't wake her up.
"Hey, hey, Musashi, wake up." Shirou eventually poured some tea into his hand and splashed it on the woman's face.
"Wait! You bastard! Don't splash it on my head... AAAAAGH!!!" Musashi sat up in a frenzy, shouting loudly.
"Oh, you're finally awake. There's food here. Here, have some tea." Shirou handed the tea over.
The woman devoured the cakes in the box and gulped down a cup of tea, letting out a long sigh of relief.
"Thanks, I've finally come back to life. Man, I was really starving. Wait! You! You did that to me just now and think you can brush it off with one sentence? Ah, this is delicious! You wait for me!" Musashi expressed that she never backed down from a fight. However, her hands never stopped stuffing cakes into her mouth; she had to fill her stomach first.
"Sorry. You reminded me of a very troublesome junior I know, so I couldn't help myself." Shirou refilled the woman's cup with tea.
"Ah, aren't you that lad from before? You've grown up, and you dyed your hair? What a coincidence! I didn't expect to run into you in this world too. What a strange encounter!" Musashi looked at Shirou in surprise, her previous anger vanished, replaced by a boisterous laugh.
"Indeed. If it were that junior from over there, I'd have to call it a cursed fate," Shirou replied with a wry smile. The scenery he saw when Isshiki pushed him off the cliff was still vivid in his mind.
"Here, beautiful lady, there are more tea snacks." The merchant uncle returned to the carriage with several boxes of snacks his subordinates had fetched from the cargo carts. He pulled out a box and handed it to Musashi, speaking in a low, mature, and gentle voice.
"Thank you! Boss, you're a truly great person." Musashi happily took the food box and continued eating heartily.
Box after box was emptied, causing the merchant's expression to fluctuate constantly. Although watching a beauty eat was initially a pleasing sight, his face turned pale as he watched high-end cakes—each box worth a week's wages for his men—being devoured at a rate of less than a minute per box.
Although he knew he had to "give up a pawn to save a rook," the wolf's appetite was so large he began to feel anxious about whether he could afford to keep her.
Looking at the woman's unbridled, gluttonous eating style, Shirou felt her stomach might not lose to Artoria's.
"I'm full, I'm full~! Thank you for the treat. Though I have no money to pay you back right now, if there's anything..."
"No, no. I've hired professional bodyguards. Besides, how could I let a young, beautiful lady do such menial labor?" The merchant waved his hands repeatedly. He might not be able to afford to keep her, but a beauty of this caliber would surely interest a castle lord, a daimyo, or other nobles. He would consider this an early investment.
"Hahaha, you're quite the smooth talker, calling me young and beautiful." Musashi laughed shyly, scratching the back of her head, looking genuinely happy.
Having made his calculations, the merchant turned his attention back to the other party.
"By the way, warrior..." The merchant rubbed his palms together, hesitating.
"Boss, if there's something on your mind, just say it," Shirou said. Since the merchant had helped Musashi, his acquaintance, he couldn't just do nothing.
"Ah, then I'll be blunt. Could you let me see that precious sword of yours?" the merchant asked.
"Certainly." Shirou handed the sword over.
"Mm-mm, surprisingly light! This texture... truly a fine blade! A fine blade indeed." The merchant fiddled with the katana, his eyes sparkling more the more he observed it. As a traveling merchant who collaborated with warlord factions, he dealt in all sorts of goods and
naturally understood the value of this sword. Just by its appearance, this sword was worth a whole cart of his cargo. If the blade inside was of the same caliber...
Then even ten or a hundred times his net worth wouldn't buy it... what would it look like?
Driven by curiosity, the merchant gripped the hilt with one hand and the scabbard with the other, pulling them apart.
The blade hidden inside was revealed, emitting a sinister, chilling light. The merchant felt as if his face were being lashed by a freezing winter wind; the pain was like being cut by a knife, and he wanted to close it. But his hands felt as if they were stuck; some invisible force was pulling him to draw the sword completely from its sheath.
At that moment! Shirou acted, pressing down on the merchant's wrist. A white light flashed in his eyes as he snapped the freezing blade back into its scabbard.
He spoke with a light smile to the stunned and suspicious merchant: "You can't just draw it casually. Because this is a Cursed Blade (Youdao)."
"A Cursed Blade? Ahaha, you're quite the joker." The merchant thought Shirou was just lightening the mood and laughed along, though in the moment the sword was drawn, he really felt a chill at his neck. His back felt cold now from the sudden cold sweat.
Suddenly, the woman interrupted their conversation.
"Um... I'd like to go pick some flowers," Musashi said, feigning shyness.
"Oh, oh, alright." The merchant blinked, then realized what she meant. He poked his head out and shouted, "Driver, stop! It's almost noon; everyone, stop and rest."
"Thank you, Boss! You're a rare 'man of Yamato'!" Musashi praised him.
"Miss, if you're afraid, let me stand guard for you," the merchant said eagerly.
"No, no need, ahaha. I'll be right back." With a strained, forced laugh, Musashi dove into the tall grass outside.
Musashi was making her own plans, despite having shamelessly begged for food.
'That merchant probably has his eye on me. Being too beautiful isn't always a good thing; it brings trouble. But looking at his expression, he reminds me a bit of a human trafficker.' Crouching in the grass, Musashi made her decision: since the situation felt off, she should find an opportunity and slip away quickly.
However, Shirou saw through all of this. There was a problem within this caravan, and he needed Musashi's help, so he wasn't prepared to let her leave just yet.
Shirou stood with his arms crossed against a tree, watching Musashi's retreating back as she tried to sneak away. He spoke the one sentence that would decide whether she stayed or went.
"Hey, lunch is about to start."
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