The teahouse was a forgotten place, tucked away on a muddy lane behind the tournament grounds, a world away from the roar of the cheated crowd. The air inside was thick with the smell of cheap tea, wet wood, and something vaguely like cabbage. A leak in the roof was dripping into a bucket with a rhythmic, maddening *plink... plink... plink...*

We sat at a small, wobbly table, sharing a jug of lukewarm sake that tasted faintly of the bucket.

The distant sound of the crowd was a constant, grumbling presence, like a stomach digesting a bad meal. They wanted blood. They had wanted a victor to elevate and a loser to scorn. They had gotten a draw and a philosophical conversation. They felt cheated.

"Let them roar," Yukiko said, swirling the sake in her cup with a look of profound indifference. "They're just angry because they didn't get to see a man die for their entertainment. It ruins the whole experience for them."

"They're angry because the story was unsatisfying," I corrected her, taking a sip of lukewarm sake. "The hero didn't win. The villain didn't lose. It breaks their tiny, little brains. They need a neat little box to put everything in."

She smiled, a thin, sharp expression. "So, that's done. Where will you go, Red-Eyes? Back to your boy and your... what was it you were doing?"

"And you?" I countered, ignoring her question. "Looking for another 'interesting spectacle'?"

"I'm going to travel," she said, her eyes gaining a far-off look, a spark of life in her otherwise weary demeanor. "I'm going to walk the length of this country. I want to see the pine forests of Matsushima. I want to stand on the shores of Izu and watch the sun rise out of the ocean. I want to see the thousand shrines of Kyoto. I want to see all of it."

Taro, who was sitting on a stool in the corner trying to be invisible, perked up at this. "Oh, the thousand shrines of Kyoto are very beautiful, my lady! This one's cousin went there once. He said the vermillion lacquer was so shiny you could see your face in it, and the monks were very... Religious."

I shot him a look that could curdle milk. He shrank back, pretending to be fascinated by a loose thread on his tunic.

I took a long drink of sake. "I've already seen it," I said, my voice flat. "I've seen it all."

I leaned back, the chair groaning in protest. "I've seen the pine forests of Matsushima. I saw them when they were just saplings, struggling to grow after a tsunami wiped the coastline clean. I'll see them when they're old and gnarled, and I'll see them when they're gone, turned to coal by a future I can't yet imagine."

"And did you help the saplings?" Yukiko asked, a sarcastic edge to her voice.

"I watched. It's what I do."

"Of course," she said. "Go on."

I looked at her, my red eyes holding a weariness that was older than mountains. "I've seen the shores of Izu. I've seen a fisherman there build a boat with his own hands, a work of art that was more beautiful than his own wife. I watched him sail it to the middle of the bay and burn it as an offering to a sea god who doesn't exist, because his son had died of the fever."

"A sad story," Yukiko said, her voice softening slightly. "And a waste of a good boat."

"Everything's a waste," I said. "I've seen the shrines of Kyoto. I've seen them built from the lumber of a fallen castle, then burned down by an invading army, then rebuilt with stones from a different fallen castle. The names change. The architecture is slightly different. But the foolishness... the foolishness is a constant."

I fell silent, draining my cup. "Now I'm looking for a place where the foolishness is quieter. A place where the great, humanity runs so slowly it's almost tolerable. A place to be bored, properly."

She listened to my monologue, her expression unreadable. She didn't look awed or intimidated. She just looked... understanding.

"You've seen it," she said simply. "I haven't."

Before I could respond, the flaps of the teahouse were thrown open with such force they almost tore off their hinges. The tournament organizer stumbled in, his face red and sweaty, his fine robes disheveled. He was followed by two burly guards who looked deeply uncomfortable and were trying very hard to pretend they didn't know him.

"You!" he snarled, pointing a trembling finger at us. "The crowd is angry! A seething, angry mob! They're calling the tournament fixed! They want their money back! They want your heads on pikes! They're angry at me too! It's a disaster!"

"How tiresome," I murmured, taking another sip of sake.

He threw a heavy leather pouch on the table. It landed with a dull, heavy thud. Coins spilled out. Gold and silver. A lot of it.

Taro made a small, squeaking sound, like a mouse that's just seen a cat.

"This is the reward money!" the organizer spat, his voice a venomous whisper. "For first and second place! Take it! It's an insult to the tournament, but it's a cheaper price than the riot you've almost caused. Take the money and go. Disappear. Consider it a... parting gift. A bribe. Just go!"

Taro, who had been sitting quietly in a corner, his eyes wide, scrambled forward. He began gathering the coins, his hands trembling, his movements a frantic, pathetic display of practicality. He picked up a gold coin, held it to the light, and, to the organizer's utter disgust, actually bit it.

"It's real, my lord!" Taro whispered, his eyes wide with a kind of religious ecstasy. "All of it! This is... this is enough to buy a small province! Or a very large quantity of very high-quality rice!"

Yukiko looked at the pouch, then at me, a wry smile on her lips. "A parting gift. I like that"

We finished our sake in silence. The organizer hovered, pacing like a caged animal, until we finally stood to leave.

We walked together as the sun began to set, leaving the disgruntled tournament behind us. We didn't speak for a long time, the only sound of the crunch of our footsteps on the dirt road and the jingling of the coins in the pouch Taro was now clutching to his chest like a precious infant.

We came to a crossroads, a simple wooden post pointing in three different directions.

"Well," Yukiko said, stopping. She pointed down the eastern path. "That way leads to the coast. To Izu." She gave me a final, searching look. "You'll get bored of being bored eventually, Red-Eyes. It's the most predictable thing about you. Come find me when you do. I'll probably have found something interesting by then."

"I'll try not to," I said.

She laughed, a real, genuine laugh. It was the first time I had heard it. "I know."

She turned and walked down the eastern path without a backward glance, her small, determined figure shrinking in the dying light.

I watched her go until she was just a speck in the distance. Taro finally caught up, the heavy pouch of coins clutched in his arms.

"My lord?" he asked, his voice hesitant. "Which way do we go?"

I looked down the other two paths. One led north, into the mountains. One led west, back towards the heartlands. They were all the same. They were all just different roads to the same foolishness.

"West," I said, starting to walk. "Let's see if the mountains are as tedious as I remember."

Taro struggled to keep up, the weight of the coins clearly a burden.

---

After One year

The morning began, as most of them did now, with Tsurugi attempting to achieve a state of pure nothingness and failing spectacularly.

He sat in what had once been a perfectly pleasant, quiet clearing in the woods. 'Had been' being the operative phrase. Somehow, during a period of particularly intense napping, an entire dojo had been constructed around him. Then dormitories. Then a perimeter wall. Then, through a process of osmosis he still didn't understand, an entire bustling compound.

"Master!" A disciple whose name he'd intentionally forgotten threw himself to the ground, his forehead pressing into the dirt. "Your lesson yesterday! It has changed my life!"

Tsurugi dragged his gaze away from a beetle attempting to roll a pellet of dung uphill. "I didn't give a lesson yesterday."

"Precisely!" the young man exclaimed, his eyes shining with the light of true fanaticism. "The lesson of absence! By teaching us nothing, you taught us to find the wisdom within ourselves! I spent the entire night in contemplation, and I realized that the sword is not a weapon, but a mirror to the soul!"

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