"You there! Stop!" a man yelled in a hoarse voice.
The man wearing a large conical hat halted mid-step.
Four men approached him, each of differing builds. Three wielded rusted farm tools, while one—noticeably well-built—carried a scimitar at his side.
"You know, teet landt are dangerout," one said, clearly missing several front teeth.
"You keep your mouth shut, remember? Anyway, yes," another added, "and we spend all day protecting the village." He grinned. "We don't do it for free, though."
The man in the conical hat smiled."Is that so? How much for your protection?"
The men glanced at one another, then at their leader.
"Erm… twenty-five bronze coins should cover our services," the leader said.
The man nodded pleasantly, reached into his dougi, and counted out the coins in his palm.
"Here you go. Thank you for your service."
One peasant immediately snatched the coins, prompting the other two to jump him, muttering about shares and fairness.
The man in the conical hat turned to leave—
—and was stopped by a large hand gripping his shoulder.
"Wait a minute," the leader said. "Why in such a hurry?"
The other three froze and turned back.
"You see," the leader continued smoothly, "it's difficult fighting bandits without proper weapons." He gestured at the farming tools. "So… how about this? Leave that wrapped weapon on your back. Think of it as an investment."
"With your weapon," he added, smiling, "we'll better protect the great people of Mino."
"After that, you're free to go."
The others' eyes lingered greedily on the bundle strapped to the man's back.
The man hesitated, then sighed with an emphatic expression.
"You make a fair point. How can you stop bandits with those tools?"
He slowly unwrapped the weapon.
All four men tensed.
Revealed was an exquisite spear—red wood inlaid with golden grooves, twisted as though shaped by flowing metal. A crimson tassel fluttered beneath the blade. The spearhead itself was enormous, closer to a greatsword than a traditional point.
This was closer to a piece of art than a weapon.
He held it horizontally with both hands and offered it forward.
"This is my prized weapon," he said apologetically. "I'm not sure I have permission to give it away, but the rules never said anything about lending."
He smiled, pleased with himself.
He was lucky he could skirt the rules this way.
The men froze.
"W–well… ith you intith," one said, greedily reaching for it.
He never touched it.
His face snapped violently to the side, and he collapsed to the ground.
"…Why did you knock him out?" the man in the conical hat asked calmly.
The other two stared at their leader in horror.
"Ah," the leader said quickly, "there was a bug on his face. He told me he's deathly afraid of them."
"I didn't see a bug," the man said, glancing at the others.
"Did you?"
The leader shot them a murderous glare.
"Y–yes! I saw it fly by," one said quickly.
"You definitely killed it! He did tell us about that fear."
The man nodded. "I see. What good friends!"
"Here, take back the coins," the leader said, forcing a smile.
"Huh? Why?" the man asked, confused.
The leader elbowed the others.
"Well… business has been good lately. This feels like excess."
"A man need only taketh what he needs," he declared.
"Ah," the man chuckled. "Very wise."
"What about the weapon?" he asked. "Do you still need it?"
"Definitely not!" The leader swallowed. "Actually… now that I think about it, we have spares in the village."
"Truly?"
"Truly."
The man sighed and carefully rewrapped his weapon, returning the coins to his pouch.
"Then I wish you gentlemen good luck," he said cheerfully.
"And to your fallen comrade, safe recovery!"
He waved and walked away.
"We will! Take care!" the leader bowed deeply.
After the man disappeared down the road.
"Big bro… he's gone," one whispered. "You can stop bowing."
The leader collapsed to his knees, drenched in sweat, gasping for air.
"BIG BRO!"
"You idiots," he rasped. "T-That was a noble heir."
One man fell onto his backside as the weight of it hit him.
"So what?" another muttered. "Doesn't that mean he had money... and that weapon..."
"Maybe if we chase him—"
"Shut the fuck up." Nakamura said, with anger and fear in his voice.
"Don't do anything stupid." He said with finality.
"Okay... it's just a shame, you know?" the man whispered.
"...I have to go somewhere" he said with greed evident from his eyes.
However, before he could make a step.
SLICE.
His vision split. One half slid away.
He was dead.
"Big bro!" the last man screamed. "Why??? Why'd you kill him?!"
The leader wiped his saber, still shaking.
"That bastard wanted an early grave, and he was gonna drag us with him."
"I just gave him what he wanted."
The last man nodded slowly.
"Listen well," Nakamura growled.
"That man... is famous, He's basically the crown prince of the fucking Kinzoku Clan."
"Get it? you fucking twits. Never, ever mention this to anyone."
"That is, unless you want to be split in half."
———
I must make a mental note of this, the man in the conical hat thought.
Four brave men protect the roads of Mino...
...In need of weapons and coin.
Good.
He slapped his forehead.
"That's not going anywhere!"
He laughed.
Escaping home had been such a great idea. If he hadn't, he'd never have witnessed such bravery with his own eyes.
Such brave heroes who only asked for spare change after spending days warding off evil!
The man believed deeply in the goodness of human nature, just as his mother had taught him in her bedtime stories.
He remembered those tender moments fondly.
However, their time together were short and abrupt.
She was only a peasant. And after a brief period of his childhood, she had been banished from clan lands.
He himself was illegitimate child but he showed great potential. At a young age, he had the makings of a martial prodigy, This kept him safe in the clan.
Most would rage or rebel.
But he had been raised believing the world was kind—almost too kind. He was certain she was living peacefully, farming beneath open skies.
Now that he was strong enough to fend for himself, it was time to find her.
She was somewhere in this territory.
I wonder what kind of stories she'll tell when we meet again?
Surely she had a ton of stories during their long time apart!
———
"Uh… can you describe her again, Lord Toyotomi?"
"No problem! She's beautiful," he said brightly.
"She smells of tulips, sings well... though she usually laughs afterward because she thinks it's foolish."
"And she makes excellent tea."
"…"
The village chief stared.
Why would a prestigious noble come all this way to find a peasant?
Hideyoshi Toyotomi was one of the heirs closest to the Kinzoku main family. Rumors claimed he had mastered powerful martial arts exclusive to their bloodline, even as an illegitimate child, he was groomed to become the next heir of the whole Kinzoku Clan.
Wielder of the Dragonfang Naginata.
A kind-hearted prodigy.
"Well… what does she look like?" the chief pressed.
"Ah, my apologies!" Toyotomi laughed, then slowly fell quiet.
"…I don't remember."
"…Brown... no, Orange hair," he said suddenly. "Definitely orange."
"There's only one woman like that here," the chief said carefully.
"But she's too young to be your mother."
"I see…"
Not Owari either…
A knock sounded.
"Budō, you idiot! I have an important guest!"
"Oh! My apologies, Old Man Oya!" Budō bowed and tried to leave.
"No need," Toyotomi said warmly. "Please continue."