Morning in Ogura unfolded as usual.
Hammer strikes rang rhythmically from the eastern forge. Wood shavings drifted in sunlight. Children ran between houses, some helping tie firewood.
Akira sat with Yuna and village head Genta on the main house veranda, simple wood, old darkened pillars.
Genta, about fifty, poured hot tea into wooden cups.
"Ogura isn't big," he said quietly, "but we try to have enough."
Yuna smiled faintly. "As a child I came here to sell cloth from our village."
"Yours was once a trade hub," Genta replied lightly.
Akira watched them. Warmth in the small talk felt foreign since his own home turned to ash.
"We have plans," Genta continued, turning to Akira. "If things improve, a small school. Just a wooden room, simple desks. Children need to read, write… so they don't always depend on swords and taxes."
Akira nodded slowly. "Good dream."
"A deeper well too," Genta added. "Old one dries in summer. Deeper means no long walks."
"And a market," he said, eyes bright despite fatigue lines. "Every five days. Neighbors trade wood, iron, cloth, crops."
He smiled faintly. "Peaceful life isn't complicated, young Akira. No palace needed. Just enough food, water, laughter."
Akira gazed at the yard. A small child struggled to lift oversized firewood.
"Peace," he murmured, "is often the most expensive."
Before Genta could reply, hoofbeats came from the main road.
Not one or two.
Many.
Talk on the veranda stopped.
Workers looked up together.
Twenty Kamakura soldiers entered Ogura.
Dull-glinting armor. Road dust on horse legs. At the front, a sturdy man with thin beard and sharp eyes scanned the village like appraising goods.
"Gather!" one soldier shouted.
Villagers collected in the center, faces tense and questioning.
Genta rose slowly. "Stay calm," he told Yuna and Akira. "I'll speak."
He approached the leader.
"How may we help?" he asked politely, bowing.
The leader dismounted without returning respect. "Taxes."
Genta paused. "We paid last month."
"New order." Voice flat, almost bored. "By Emperor Go-Horikawa and Shogun Minamoto. Every Kyoto-area village must pay extra tribute."
Villagers exchanged uneasy glances.
Genta knelt slowly. "Sir, we don't refuse duty. But production takes time. Wood must be cut, iron forged. Give us one more month."
The leader stared blankly. "No."
Silence.
"If not now," he continued, "next month triple."
Panic whispers spread.
"Triple?" an old man's voice shook. "Impossible…"
Genta lifted his head slightly. "Sir, please consider. We're small. Triple would…"
"Bankrupt you?" the leader cut coldly. "Not our concern."
He leaned closer, face level with Genta's. "And if next month you still can't pay… young women and men will be taken to Kyoto. For work."
Air froze.
Mothers clutched daughters.
Yuna clenched fists.
Genta bowed deeper. "Sir… that's too heavy."
"Heavy or not isn't my business. It's decree."
"Decree?" another voice interrupted from behind.
Heads turned.
Akira stepped from the crowd.
Steps calm, gaze sharp.
"Decree from whom?" he asked.
The leader eyed him head to toe. "Who are you?"
"Just curious," Akira said. "Did Emperor Go-Horikawa personally count taxes for tiny villages? Or is Shogun Minamoto too busy in Kamakura?"
Several soldiers moved, hands on hilts.
Leader smiled thinly. "Watch your tongue."
"No harm in questions," Akira replied evenly. "If it's truly their order, there must be clear reason. Not just squeezing villages that already paid."
"You accuse us of extortion?"
"I see reality."
Eyes locked.
"Name," the leader demanded.
Akira paused. "Akira."
"Akira who?"
Villagers held breath.
"Odawara."
Soft exclamations from soldiers.
Leader narrowed eyes. "You refuse and fight?"
"I refuse injustice," Akira said.
"Kyoto lost. Accept consequences," leader snapped.
"Not all losers are wrong."
Tension thickened.
"You think your sword changes orders?" leader sneered.
"I don't aim to change orders," Akira replied. "I won't let this village be bled dry."
Leader sighed long, bored. "Half of you," he told his men, "finish this one."
Ten advanced.
At the same moment, a west house door opened. Ryuma stepped out, sword already drawn.
"You never learn," he said quietly.
Battle erupted.
Two attacked Akira front. He parried one slash, spun, countered fast, forcing retreat. Third came right, he leaped back, blade tip grazing stomach.
Ryuma moved like directed storm. Each swing efficient. One soldier fell, then another.
But numbers overwhelmed.
While ten engaged Akira and Ryuma, the rest scattered.
"Into houses!" one shouted.
Doors kicked in. Villager screams. Wood storehouse forced open. Small chests dragged out.
"Stop!" a woman cried.
Hard slap silenced her.
Rage flared in Akira's chest.
He cut one attack, kicked the man down. "Uncle!"
"I see!" Ryuma answered, breath heavy but strikes sharp.
The leader finally advanced himself.
He drew slowly. "I'll handle you."
They closed.
First slash fast, precise. Akira blocked; vibration jarred his arm.
This man was no ordinary soldier.
Blades clashed in succession. Steps circled blood-stained ground. No room for hesitation.
"Not bad," leader muttered. "For filthy rat."
Akira pushed him back a step. "You're the real rat."
Elsewhere Ryuma fought ferociously. Every move resolute, every cut carrying buried anger. He parried two blades, spun, dropped both in one sequence.
Still surrounded.
Akira's breath grew heavy. Leader pressed relentlessly, exploiting gaps.
Suddenly,
A soldier behind the leader screamed.
A sword pierced his back.
All turned.
Yuna stood there.
Hair loose, face hard. Both hands gripped swords taken from fallen soldiers.
She attacked without words.
Movements not wild, not reckless. She glided toward two aiding the leader, right sword blocking, left sweeping legs.
Ryuma laughed shortly mid-fight. "The girl?"
Akira nearly faltered in surprise. Leader exploited, pressing harder.
Blades locked.
In the strain, Akira glanced at Yuna dropping another soldier.
"You never said you could fight," he said, struggling to hold.
Yuna grinned faintly without looking. "You never asked."