Yorimitsu made his steady way toward the grand estate buildings, his sandals crunching rhythmically against the vast expanse of white gravel. Along the courtyard paths, passing monks cast quiet, stolen glances at him, their whispers muffled by the wind. The closer he drew to the central structures, the more the surrounding scenery began to shift, trading the rigid simplicity of the training grounds for the lavish, refined architecture of high society.
Just ahead, small stone lanterns were scattered gracefully along the path, casting a soft, flickering glow over the landscape. A small, pristine pond came into view, its clear waters rippling as white and vibrant orange carp lazily flapped their fins beneath a small, arched red bridge.
Suddenly, the veiled guide came to a frantic halt. She stared straight ahead for a brief moment before turning sharply to face Yorimitsu, burying her hands deep within her wide silk sleeves as she offered a low, rigid bow.
"I shall leave you here, Minamoto-sama," she murmured.
This time, without even waiting for him to offer a response, she turned on her heel and departed with hurried, anxious steps.
'How peculiar,' Yorimitsu thought, his eyes tracking her retreating figure until she vanished around a corridor.
Exhaling a slow, steady breath, he stepped onto the wooden planks of the red bridge. His gaze drifted downward, watching the colourful fish glide effortlessly through the water below.
'A life without lies, huh? Must be a truly peaceful existence,' he mused bitterly, casting a final glance at the serene waters before crossing the threshold.
"Mmm..."
The exact second his foot touched the gravel on the opposite side of the bridge, every single instinct in his body violently flared. His muscles tensed, a cold ripple of awareness locking down his spine.
'I couldn't sense it from across the water, but now that I've crossed over... the pressure is staggering,' Yorimitsu realised, his eyes narrowing as he looked up at the towering, majestic buildings before him. 'There are dozens of masters hidden in there.'
"Minamoto no..." a voice called out to him, cutting sharply through the quiet courtyard just as he drew within a few paces of the grand entrance to the main Chōdō building.
"Mmm..."
Yorimitsu turned slowly on his heel. To his surprise, a figure had materialised out of nowhere, standing directly along his path. 'Who is it wearing a mask during broad daylight? How peculiar,' he thought, his eyes narrowing as the stranger approached.
The man was draped in vibrant orange monk vestments, and his face was entirely concealed beneath a wooden Hannya mask, its distorted, demonic features glinting sharply against the glare of the afternoon sun. In his grip, he carried a heavy, iron-ringed monk's staff that failed to make even a single clink against the gravel as he moved.
The masked figure brought his steps to a halt a few paces away, radiating a dense, suffocating aura.
"Did you call for me?" Yorimitsu asked, keeping his expression entirely neutral.
"Indeed..." the man responded, his voice sounding hollow, cold, and slightly hushed from behind the wooden mouth of the mask.
'What is his deal?' Yorimitsu wondered, analysing the stranger's stance. 'Is he an instructor? I haven't seen a single trace of him around the main dojos.'
"Word has reached me from Bushido that you played a vital role in the catastrophic defeat of Orochi," the masked monk spoke plainly, his hidden eyes boring into the boy.
The realisation pulsed instantly through Yorimitsu's mind: 'He is testing me?'
In a fraction of a second, Yorimitsu's entire demeanour underwent a radical transformation. He suppressed the rhythm of his breathing, intentionally dulled the fierce sharpness in his eyes, and allowed his shoulders to slump forward.
"No... no, your lordship exaggerates," Yorimitsu spoke, his voice instantly softening into a meek, timid register. He buckled his knees slightly and shifted his weight awkwardly, making himself appear small, fragile, and almost pathetic beneath the man's gaze. "I barely managed to do anything at all. I was simply incredibly lucky to escape with my life."
The masked monk stared down at him for a long, agonising moment. Then, a harsh, dismissive scoff echoed from beneath the wood.
"Tch. Yes... of course. There is absolutely no way a worm like you could have influenced a clash of that magnitude," the man spat, his tone dripping with profound disgust. "I suppose that old fool Bushido was merely fabricating exaggerations to artificially inflate your household's reputation since he has connections with you all. What a pathetic, miserable little pawn."
The monk turned his back to Yorimitsu, completely disregarding him.
"What a bitter disappointment. I truly anticipated someone of actual substance," the man muttered aloud. He took a few fluid steps forward, rounding the corner of the stone wall, and vanished from perception entirely.
The moment the masked figure vanished from sight, Yorimitsu seamlessly adjusted his posture, his spine straightening as the meek facade evaporated. His eyes remained locked onto the corner where the monk had disappeared.
"He was incredibly dangerous, Master," Inoue whispered, his paws weaving against the sharp rabble.
"Yeah," Yorimitsu replied smoothly, stepping toward the grand entrance. "While he was speaking, he was leaking concentrated killing intent directly toward me, testing to see if I instinctively flared or flinched to defend myself. "
Without another word, Yorimitsu pushed open the massive, heavy doors of the main Chōdō building.
The instant the threshold crossed, a wave of crisp, deep coolness washed over him, completely cutting off the oppressive heat of the afternoon sun. The interior was staggering in its scale. A grand, cavernous hall stretched out before them, the distant murmurs of unseen courtiers scattering across the high, vaulted ceilings. Exquisite, sprawling ink paintings lined the walls, depicting ancient battles and mythic landscapes.
At the absolute far end of the immense space sat Yasumasa, completely alone. He seemed locked in a state of profound, absolute concentration, his calligraphy brush fluidly dancing up and down across a massive scroll of pristine parchment.
"You have arrived," Yasumasa spoke aloud, his voice echoing perfectly through the hall without him even lifting his eyes from the ink.
"You summoned me," Yorimitsu responded, his steady footsteps bringing him to a respectful halt a few paces away.
"That I did..." Yasumasa murmured.
A heavy, absolute silence descended upon the grand hall. Yasumasa didn't offer another word, completely ignoring the young commander's presence as he continued to meticulously slash his brush across the paper.
Then, a few moments later, a soft, erratic giggle escaped Yasumasa's lips.
"It is finally complete." He rose to his feet in one fluid motion, lifting the heavy scroll with both hands and turning it aggressively to display the fresh, glistening black ink to Yorimitsu.
Yorimitsu's eyes scanned the sweeping, razor-sharp characters of the Shodō.
"Sekai wa owari, hajimari...
世
界
は
終
わ
り
,
始
ま
り" Yorimitsu read the classical script aloud.
"Yes... Exactly," Yasumasa beamed, a wild, sharp smile cutting across his face as he admired his own handiwork. "Interesting, isn't it? The end of the world is merely the beginning."