"Tell me... do you truly believe it is possible to live a life entirely devoid of falsehoods?" Yasamusa asked, fluttering about light-footedly as he searched for a proper frame to hang his newly completed scroll against the grand wall.
'What is the meaning behind this sudden question?' Yorimitsu thought, his eyes tracking the elder statesman's erratic movements as Yasamusa meticulously secured the twine to the wall.
"I suppose it is entirely impossible," Yorimitsu responded plainly.
"Oh? And why exactly is that? Please, do pre-tell," Yasamusa murmured, not turning around as he adjusted the alignment of the frame.
"Mmm. For me, a life completely stripped of falsehoods would mean you must remain absolutely, unyieldingly truthful in everything you do. If humanity were to collectively live in such a manner... society would immediately collapse into ruin."
"Ruin?!" Yasamusa repeated, a genuine note of amusement dancing in his voice as he finally turned his head to look at the boy.
"Yes, ruin," Yorimitsu elaborated, his voice steady. "Take a simple scenario. Suppose you have a loved one, and one day she approaches you, asking if you think her appearance has grown unappealing or fat. If you are living a life bound to absolute truth, you would tell her the exact, blunt reality. Wouldn't that instantly cause her to resent you?"
"Pffft—Hahahahahaha!" Yasamusa burst out into a sudden, boisterous fit of laughter, clutching his wide silk sleeves.
"You are entirely right! You are right!" Yasamusa wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye. "Though personally, I wouldn't mind it terribly even if a woman were a little bit chubby, the noble ladies I have encountered in the Capital all desperately wish to be thin and viewed as such. But surely, that wouldn't bring about the utter ruin of society, right? Even if a woman is temporarily blinded by anger, that fury would eventually pass with time."
"Mmm. That may be true for a domestic dispute," Yorimitsu countered, his eyes narrowing slightly as he drove his point home. "But extend that same absolute truth to the hierarchy of the empire. If everyone spoke without filter, how many commoners or low-ranking soldiers would be instantly slaughtered simply for offending the fragile ego of a higher stature?"
Yasamusa's laughter instantly subsided. He stared at Yorimitsu for a long, quiet moment, the eccentric amusement fading into a look of profound evaluation.
"Mmm... you are entirely correct," Yasamusa responded softly, his voice dropping into a chillingly serious register.
"Furthermore, there is the darker truth regarding the depravity of mankind," Yorimitsu continued, his voice echoing coldly against the high ceilings.
"There are those who harbour an innate desire for killing, pillaging, and stealing. When a tragedy strikes, society dictates that we must display profound empathy. Yet, the grim reality is that most people do not truly care unless the fire scorches on their own doorstep. They simply rely on the falsehood of manners, offering hollow condolences like, 'I am deeply sorry for your loss.' If mankind lived entirely without falsehoods, anyone who remained indifferent to tragedy would be immediately branded an unfeeling monster even if they themselves never committed a single evil act."
"Yes... that is entirely true," Yasumasa responded, his eyes glinting with a sharp, dangerous illumination. He turned completely to face the boy, his playful demeanour completely evaporating. "Mankind is inherently fractured by its own conflicting perspectives. That is precisely why my ultimate ambition is to forge a world that adheres to a single, absolute truth. Once every soul aligns beneath that solitary reality, all other petty falsehoods will naturally wither away."
For a split second, the sheer weight of Yasumasa's hidden ambition filled the room like physical gravity.
Then, just as quickly, his eccentric disposition snapped back into place. His gaze dropped to the space beside Yorimitsu's legs. "Oh? Well, what do we have here? I initially assumed you possessed a high-tier Shikigami... but no. The resonance of this entity feels far more akin to a household guardian spirit. How fascinating. You truly never cease to surprise me, young Minamoto."
Yasamusa stepped forward, casually reaching down to pat Inoue, who remained perfectly rigid under the pressure of the master's hand.
"Now then... let us finally pivot to the primary reason I commanded you to appear before me today," Yasumasa spoke, straightening his robes.
Yorimitsu's posture locked, his eyes widening slightly with intense anticipation.
"I require you to step forward and become the official Champion of my faction," Yasumasa declared plainly.
"The... Champion?" Yorimitsu repeated, narrowing his eyes.
"Yes, the Champion," Yasumasa stated, his voice dropping into a chillingly frank register. "I shall not mince words with you, boy. The fragile peace of this empire is rotting away from the inside out. Very soon, the entirety of Nihon will be violently plunged into a catastrophic war of succession. I require a figure that will become mythic, a martial prodigy to rally the fractured banners under my cause so that we might forcefully unite this realm before it burns to ash."
"Ha?!"
Yorimitsu was completely taken aback. He stood frozen, his mind racing to process the absurdity of the proposal. In truth, he had spent the entire journey to the Chōdō buildings bracing himself for an interrogation, fully believing he had been summoned because the elders had detected the Seal of Ryyū that could easily brand him a mutated Yokai. This grand political offer was entirely outside his expectations.
"This is a bit sudden; I am well aware," Yasamusa murmured, his voice returning to a smooth, casual register. "Therefore, I shall grant you ample time to weigh the options before making your choice."
"But... why me?" Yorimitsu questioned, his eyes narrowing as he tried to discern the catch. "Surely, there are countless other disciples within the upper echelons who possess massive, established backing. My clan was lingering on the absolute brink of decline until only recently."
"Pffft..." Yasumasa giggled softly, a brief spark of his eccentric nature bleeding back through his professional demeanour.
"Yes, it is entirely true that there are far more dominant clans controlling the capital's board right now," Yasumasa conceded, pacing back toward his low table. "However... I have a distinct inkling that before the turn of the winter solstice, the House of Minamoto will have violently reclaimed the vast majority of the influence it once lost. And when it comes to raw potential... There is not a single disciple in this school who eclipses you. You managed to successfully hold off Orochi until Master Bushido could intervene. He may be weak and unawakened at the time, but surviving such an encounter is an unprecedented feat in its own right."
Yasamusa reached down onto his desk, lifting a small, intricately carved wooden box that had been resting beside his inkstones. He glided back across the tatami mats, stopping right in front of the young commander, and placed the container directly into Yorimitsu's hands.
"Now, return to your quarters. The official merit rewards for your survival on the vanguard mission are contained within," Yasumasa instructed with a warm, yet unyielding smile. "You may deliver your final decision to me at a later date. Even if you ultimately choose to refuse my banner, do come visit me from time to time. Your mind is truly a fascinating specimen to converse with."
Without granting the boy a single moment to counter, Yasumasa gracefully guided Yorimitsu back toward the heavy entrance doors, ushering him across the threshold and back over the red arched bridge.
The heavy doors shut with a definitive, resonant thud.
Yorimitsu stood entirely alone on the gravel path, the mysterious wooden box gripped tightly in his hands. He remained anchored to the spot in a complete, silent stupor, his tactical mind utterly malfunctioning.
'What just happened...?!'