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Side Story #16: Toshio's Cruise
🕑 Added 2019-11-07 17:05:50 +0000 UTC<Author’s note: This story takes place before the events of Book 1.>
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Side Story 16: Toshio’s Cruise
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■■ To Jijinto ■■
Toshio gripped his head as it pounded. It was difficult enough to read about ship maintenance and naval warfare—doing so on a bumpy carriage ride while getting your ear talked off by a sociable shipwright was next to impossible.
“I speak on ‘alf of all my boys when I say Shibuya & Sons are mighty honored having you with us, Toshio-san. We can’t wait to show the Emperor’s top naval inspector what we’re up to! Truth be told, I was worried of losing our best customer after that arrow mishap at the castle. They ever figure out who done it? You know if I was a samurai, I’d—”
“That information is confidential,” Toshio said, raising his hand to silence Shibuya for the hundredth time in their three days of travel out from the Capital. That ‘arrow mishap’ had been a half-hearted assassination attempt on Satsuma’s life, a scheme intended to frame the Kondos of Yamato and force them out of the city.
And the schemer was nothing less than a demon: an actual, living monster.
■■ Yamato, Days Earlier ■■
“I believe you are suffering from what they call a hangover, Toshio-san,” the Emperor said with a polite chuckle. “I trust you enjoyed your evening out with Captain Hanbei?”
Toshio grimaced upon hearing the name as he poured his master’s morning tea. The tea ceremony was a moment to clear his thoughts and—more importantly—report to Satsuma all he had learned from the day before. It was usually his favorite time of the day.
Not this day, though.
“He insisted upon a tour of every izakaya in Yamato,” Toshio groaned. “And we were accompanied by just about every member of the city watch—off-duty or otherwise. I will spare you the details of their jokes, but their stories...they only grew more outlandish as the night went on. One would think a guardsman in the safest city in Hyuga fought perilous battles on a daily basis!”
The Emperor braced his stomach as he let out a full and hearty laugh. They were rare to see, Toshio knew, but he would’ve appreciated it more had it not been at his own expense.
When Satsuma calmed down and sipped his green matcha tea, he thanked his companion before getting on to the much grimmer matter at hand. “A monster from my nightmares now walks in Hyuga. The Danzaemon...the men this demon ordered to be burned alive...I fear they will hardly be the last of the lives she takes. Her greed has no bounds nor regard for human life.”
Toshio nodded. “She spoke as if she bore a serpent’s tongue. Her face was unremarkable save for an unsightly wart. She had a servant with a snake tattooed across his chest, and she had wealth enough to burn expensive agarwood incense. I’ve already checked with all merchants who carry it and none recall selling it to her.”
“You’re forgetting one detail,” Satsuma said after taking a long sip. He held out a dart—the one that had been fired at Toshio at the shrine just one day before. “You were nearly poisoned by her venom in your last encounter. Had you not been wearing the guardsman’s vest, I could’ve lost you. That’s a fear I do not wish to experience twice.”
The Emperor had anticipated the ninja’s thoughts—as he often did. Toshio hadn’t just been bar-hopping last night: he had been plotting a course of action to not just discover the identity of the demon, but to put an end to her.
“Satsu-kun...even so, if but one of your enemies is out there, I must go after them. I cannot wait for the Sword Who Cuts the Heavens to cut me a path. Please, allow me this.”
“You saw my sculpture at the shrine, did you not? Then you already know that I have seen the death of this demon. Yet you would still go...is it that you have lost faith in my dreams?” the Emperor asked, more out of curiosity than anger.
Toshio shook his head then looked down at his tea cup. Though its contents were hot, they were lukewarm compared to the fire brewing within the ninja. “It’s not a matter of faith,” he said, before letting his thoughts take over. “Or maybe it is. Is it too much to wish that you’d have as much faith in me as you do your Sword?”
A hand on Toshio’s shoulder brought his head up with a jolt. Satsuma met his surprised expression with a warm one. “You have my permission to do as you wish, Toshio-san. If I may suggest, the shipwrights I met with earlier are returning to Jijinto today. Though I will miss our morning tea, I suspect you may do well to accompany them East.”
The ninja’s smile went wide. “Arigato, Satsuma-sama! I will handle this demon who haunts you to the best of my ability. I will make use of all my strengths to make your vision of the future a reality!”
“It is not your strengths that worry me, Toshio-san.” The Emperor put down his tea cup and refilled it, this time with plain water instead. He stirred it with his fingers before flicking them dry. “I am more concerned about the weaknesses that you are reluctant to see.”
■■ Jijinto ■■
“My weaknesses...what are they, Satsu-kun?”
That question had been on Toshio’s mind all during the travel to Hyuga’s biggest and busiest city, and remained on it even as he was escorted to Shibuya & Son’s headquarters. The company of shipbuilders were stationed by the docks as one would expect, which was like a wooden coastline that stretched as far as the eye could see—especially on a foggy afternoon like this one.
“Nothing a sailor likes to see less than clouds on the water,” Shibuya remarked. He spat into the ocean as if to insult it and motioned Toshio beside him. Once the ninja drew closer, the man whispered, “Truth be told, been talk of pirates prowling ‘round these parts on days like these. Best be careful, Inspector!”
“I would be more concerned with fishermen not watching where they’re going,” Toshio remarked coldly, playing the part of the practical naval inspector to a tee. “When we arrive, I’d like some time to go over your records—your clientele in particular.”
Shibuya laughed and gave Toshio a pat on the back that—had he not braced for it—would’ve sent him over the edge of the pier. “Clay-and-tell? They sure use fancy words over in Yamato! Far as papers go, all that work we leave to Tanjiro. The boy can’t tie a sailor’s knot to save his life, but he can count higher than anyone you ever seen. I’ll take you to him!”
Toshio nodded but wasn’t optimistic about anyone Shibuya recommended. He had suspected and confirmed during their travels together that the shipwright and his crew were illiterate and, to put it kindly, self-educated. “How they manage to make seaworthy vessels is a mystery. One that not even I am interested in!”
What wasn’t a mystery was the building Shibuya & Sons operated in. Illiterate though he was, Shibuya could certainly spell his own name. He did so on just about every board on the deck leading up to a large warehouse with an open face towards the water, where a small fleet of ships could come in for repairs or out for their maiden voyages.
They were met by two broad-shouldered laborers who bowed well before Toshio and Shibuya were within range. It was obvious they knew they were coming; the boss had sent a messenger out ahead and had done so in secret—or so he believed. Shibuya would have to be far more subtle to get past Toshio’s notice.
“Either this is a trap or he’s desperate on making a good impression,” Toshio thought to himself. He wouldn’t realize until later that it was both.
“Boss! I mean, Shibuya-sama!” a crewmember yelled out and bowed. He was at the head of a line of sailors, each standing straight and all of them visibly uncomfortable. “Everybody, bow to him and the Inspector—uh, I mean, his guest!”
They each did so, not in unison but one after the other, making the drunk ones even more obvious to spot. One of them—an older fellow—was so boozed that he managed to bow sideways instead of forward, and another hadn’t even bothered to release his grip on a saké bottle. After them were a pair of gamblers holding cups that rattled with Chō-Han dice.
Shibuya was furious, but it wasn’t until after one of the gamblers asked him if he wanted in on the next throw that the shipwright went off on them. “Quit actin’ like the scum-eating sardines that you are and get back to work! We gotta customer here,” Shibuya shouted, gesturing to Toshio, “and I want you working like he’s the Emperor himself!”
Though Toshio didn’t expect Imperial treatment, the words got the sons of Shibuya off their feet and into action. Though half of them were drunk and all of them reeked of alcohol, it was obvious that they knew their jobs and got back to them right away. It was interesting seeing them in action: carving oars, crafting sails and smithing anchors—but that wasn’t why Toshio was there.
“Which one of them is Tanjiro?” the ninja asked, scrutinizing the crew. Toshio was a decent judge of character but an even better judge of capability, and none of the muscled sailors present seemed capable of the calculations required for nautical engineering. Even Toshio had trouble grasping the literature he had read on the ride East.
“Reckon he’s in the den. Not too social-like, that one,” Shibuya said with a sigh as he guided Toshio deeper into his headquarters. “Though all of them are my boys, Tanji’s my flesh-and-blood. Worries me more often than not, he does, but he’ll be set straight once we get ‘im hitched. Wife and I are arranging a marriage meeting for him with a geisha. Real pretty lass, er...Keiko, I think her name was.”
“I don’t have time for women, Fa—I mean, Shibuya,” said a voice from within the den. “Especially if we’re to fix the Tekkō’s tendency to flood her cabins when going astern! I hope you managed to delay those troublesome auditors at the Capital; as it is, we—”
Shibuya let out a burst of laughter that was as awkward as it was forced. He put on a fake grin as he pulled himself and Toshio inside the very cramped quarters of Shibuya & Sons one and only engineer: Tanjiro.
He was a scrawny fellow who looked bookish or at least, he was surrounded by parchments, maps, scrolls and diagrams from all sides. He gulped as soon as he met eyes with Toshio, before dropping his gaze back down to his work.
“That’s my boy, always the joker! Hahaha,” Shibuya faked out a laugh before giving introductions.
“This here’s Toshio-san, an Imperial inspector who insisted on coming back with us to see our progress. That’s how much interest His Imperial Majesty has on the Tekkōsen! So you’re gonna answer all his questions satisfactory-like, okay Tanji?”
Tanjiro was dumbfounded but only for a moment—after which he nodded, understanding the thinly-hidden stress behind his father’s words. A contract with the Emperor’s fleet for making warships would set Shibuya & Sons up for life. That said, the idea of working for his father in this cramped den for the next few decades was enough to make the young man gag.
He held back his distaste and gulped. “W-what is it I can help you with, Inspector Toshio?”
Toshio was about to ask for Shibuya to leave when the man excused himself. He didn’t need an excuse but offered one anyway: he had a surprise in store for Toshio of which—the ninja was promised—he’d never forget. After his exit, the shinobi was quick to slide the door closed behind him.
“Now then,” Toshio said, “I wish to know of everyone this company has conducted business with in the past year. I trust you have the records on hand?”
Tanjiro nodded and looked through one drawer after another, mumbling to himself frantically as he tried to recall where the ‘business stuff’ was. Though the young man was uneasy, it was something else that was causing him to shake and stumble about.
“You haven’t slept for some time,” Toshio observed. “Is it customary for Shibuya to work his employees so hard?”
The young shipwright gave a slight laugh. “My father...if he doesn’t see me out in the shipyard hauling barrels, then he assumes I’m lazing about back here! He doesn’t understand just how much work it takes to manage all the company’s finances and ship designs. Honestly? I’m not sure which will sink us first!”
Toshio brought a hand to his chin and thought aloud. “You’re being awfully candid to an Imperial inspector.”
“Maybe I’m just tired of living a lie,” Tanjiro whispered to himself as he let out a defeated sigh. More importantly, he found the pile of parchments with the previous year’s orders. Toshio looked them over quickly but didn’t see any names of particular interest.
“Dozens of fishing boats, a few transports from General Shatao in Shima, several merchant vessels to Yamato and Genfu,” Toshio said, reading aloud. “This most recent order here is marked out. It’s dated just a week before Shibuya’s arrival to Yamato.”
Though he’d never admit it, interrogations like these excited Toshio. Especially when the interrogatee began to squirm and resist. Tanjiro’s body language spoke volumes even though his mouth clamped shut. His feet were pointed towards the door and his eyes were anywhere but on Toshio’s face. He held his arms closed and coiled as if prepared to defend against a series of strikes.
Toshio wondered if it would come to that.
“D-deals fall through all the time,” Tanjiro remarked, shrugging his shoulders and reorganizing his papers. “Meeting His Imperial Majesty took priority over anything else—my father has a one-track mind. And speaking of this meeting, is it true that there was some sort of attempt on the Emperor’s life? I pray that is only a rumor!”
A bottle with a miniature ship inside it caught the ninja’s attention. He picked it up to examine it closer, but really his attention was on Tanjiro’s reaction. The reluctant shipwright seemed to value the display piece highly, grimacing as Toshio handled it with roughly.
“What’s the phrase? Loose lips sink ships?” The ninja asked, being coy, while turning the bottle around and then dropping it—or at least, pretending too. He snatched it up right before Tanjiro looked ready to dive for it. “When Satsuma-sama arranged that meeting with Shibuya & Sons, it was expressly stated that it was to be confidential. Yet I have reason to believe it was leaked.”
Tanjiro gulped and wiped the sweat from his forehead before falling back into his seat. “Those aren’t the sort of leaks I expected a naval inspector to be looking for. As far as that goes...well, you’ve met my father, Inspector Toshio. He’s a sailor at heart, and bragging and boasting is what they do best—after drinking, I suppose. But for all his faults, he’s a shrewd businessman. Father likes to play potential customers against each other to drive up bids.”
“And for the Tekkōsen? Who besides the Emperor wanted that ship?”
Tanjiro replied with a mumble. “The yakuza were interested in it. The Yamagata-gumi in particular.”
Of all the factions in Hyuga—from disgruntled samurai to zealous warrior monks—Toshio never expected an organized crime syndicate to have need of warships. Merchant vessels and luxury liners, sure—but a galleon encased in an iron shell?
“T-the Yamagata would use it as a means of offering protection...for a fee,” Tanjiro added, more than a little nervous. “Pirates, you see, are an ever-present concern out here.”
*WHAM*
Toshio pounded the shipwright’s desk with his fist, shaking the bottle with the miniature vessel and sending a stack of papers falling over. It wasn’t that he was concerned about the illegal affairs of the yakuza—but he would pretend to be so long as it offered him the leverage he needed.
“Extortion on the sea! Legally speaking, that would classify them as pirates, and abetting privateers goes against the Charters of the Celestial Sea, signed into law at the turn of the Golden Age! I don’t think you realize what a precarious situation your company is in!” Toshio yelled, feigning anger to play up his threat. “If His Imperial Majesty heard of this...I cannot imagine what action he would take!”
Tanjiro looked halfway between a scared cat and a beaten dog, which was right where Toshio wanted him. In interrogations, threats alone were useless—there had to be a means of escape. Toshio was about to offer one when Shibuya barged in.
“You two are certainly ‘aving a spirited conversation! Ah-haha, haha!” He laughed, patting Toshio on the back all the while. “But talk is cheap—and you didn’t travel ‘ere from Yamato for just that, right Inspector? You’re here to see the Tekkōsen! Well, we’re gonna do you one better than that: we’re gonna take her for a ride!”
Tanjiro objected to the idea before Toshio could, claiming that the ship wasn’t ready: measurements weren’t made and features weren’t fixed. All of that was ignored by Shibuya, who forcefully dragged the two of them out of the den and into the harbor where a vessel unlike any other awaited them.
“I see you’re in shock at ‘er beauty, aren’t you Inspector? Come on, get on aboard and we’ll sail her maiden voyage!”
Toshio realized his mouth was open. The ninja was shocked, true enough, though not out of amazement—though the floating fortress was certainly a spectacle, it was fear that stopped the shinobi in his tracks.
The man known as the Heartless Hound—the ruthless right hand of the Emperor—was forced to face one of his greatest weaknesses.
“I’ve...never been on a boat before.”
■■■■
Toshio grew nauseous the moment the crew weighed anchor and set sail; he looked back on the pier with a longful gaze. With his legs and the world around him unsteady, he braced the center mast and prayed this ordeal would end sooner rather than later.
“What’re you doin’ there, Inspector?” Shibuya shouted, with a voice that carried from stern to aft. “You look like you haven’t gotten your sea legs on yet!”
“I’m just...just checking the integrity of the mast,” Toshio replied. Much as he’d rather be on land, he had a role to play as a naval inspector for the Emperor. “Although I’m here under a false pretense, I refuse to dishonor Satsu-kun. I can do this!”
Bracing his courage, Toshio unbraced the wooden pole to stand beside Shibuya on the deck out front. Though one needed to specify which deck on the Tekkōsen, as it had three: a below deck, where the oarsmen did their rowing, a main deck where the archers lined up behind large walls plated in iron, and a top deck where the sails and navigational crew were.
“Fear of heights, huh? Can’t say I blame you—we’re the biggest and tallest ship in the water! Look at those fishing boats scatter off like minnows! Hahaha!”
“The height doesn’t concern me,” said Toshio, who was the best climber among the Imperial ninja. “But this fog does. It may be best to delay this voyage until it passes.”
“He’s right, Shibuya!” said Tanjiro, panting after running down one deck up to another. He was holding a measuring stick in one hand and a leveling tube in the other. “The weight distribution...she’s starboard-heavy! A right turn may well send us under!”
Shibuya waved him off. “Ignore the boy, Inspector. He’s the sort to worry—takes after his mother, he does! We’ll just be going on a quick tour ‘round the docks. Be back in time for lunch!” he said, with confidence only a captain could have. He then opened a hatch down to the oarsmen below. “How’s The Canary sound, boys? Drinks will be on me today!”
A cheer echoed throughout the hull as the rowing spurred the galleon forward. Ships unfortunate enough to be in the Tekkōsen’s way had to scramble to get out of it; fishermen had to cut their nets to save their boats while merchant vessels rang bells to alert others to the new sea monster made from wood and iron.
The floating fortress was like a castle built upon a foundation of tofu, Toshio decided, though he instantly regretted thinking of food while his head spun and stomach churned. They were out of the shallows now and the waves were larger, crashing against the hull in a nonsensical pattern that brought upon a renewed seasickness in the ninja.
“I believe I’ve...seen enough, Shibuya-san,” Toshio said while fighting back the urge to vomit. “Take us back to port.”
The captain and head of the company raised his hands and pleaded for a little more time. He gave a whistle and then looked past the stern as if hunting for shadows in the fog. A crewmember arrived to hand him a spyglass, though even with its aid he couldn’t confirm his findings.
“Be happy to take you back, Inspector, but we been ‘earing talk of pirates lurking around these parts. Wanted to do a little look-see...shame I can’t see past this fog, though.”
Toshio snatched the handheld telescope from him. He looked upwards to the crow’s nest—a small platform high enough on the mast to be free of the fog. “I’ll go up there myself and look. If I see nothing, you are to return this ship to its station. Do we have an—erGh—agreement?”
The seasick ninja retasted the morning’s miso and began climbing up the mast even without the captain’s consent. Toshio hoped being up higher would cure his nausea but even if it didn’t, a moment alone on this crowded galley was reason enough to make the climb.
“I’ve...made a terrible mistake,” Toshio admitted to himself after he made it to the crow’s nest. Because it was so far from the ship’s center of mass, rotational movement was at its peak—which meant Toshio was at his worst, staggering about like a drunk suffering from a massive hangover.
“Ho up there!” yelled Shibuya from below. “You’re quite the climber, Inspector! Let us know if you spot anything out of the ordinary, will ya?”
Toshio nodded but not out of approval; his head bobbed outside his control, spinning with every teeter and sway of the ship on the ocean. He both cursed and prayed that the spirits would see him through this, that he would find and destroy the demon of Satsuma’s dreams, and most of all: that the contents of his stomach would stay where they were.
“I’d look starboard for signs of trouble, Inspector!” shouted Shibuya once more. Toshio struggled to recall which side that meant—it wasn’t an easy task when you were choking on stomach acids.
“Why are we wasting our time? To find pirates this close to shore is exceedingly unlikely,” Toshio grumbled to himself as he peered into the captain’s spyglass. “Not even in the most chaotic years of the Golden Era were they so…”
The ninja lost his train of thought as a shadow drew from behind the fog. He first assumed it was a scuttled ship, left abandoned to sink on its own accord. But this one was sailing towards the Tekkōsen. Toshio didn’t know if its captain was blind or foolish, but after seeing the black flags spout up from the mist he knew it was trouble.
“Pirates...really? And that emblem on the sails—could they really be the Sumitomo?” Toshio questioned his own eyes before reporting to the captain down below. “Pirate vessel incoming, starboard side!”
Shibuya let out a gasp before ringing a bell and shouting to the crew. “All hands on deck! Looks like we’re gonna see how powerful the Tekkōsen is in real combat!”
To Toshio’s amazement, every crewmember—save for Tanjiro, perhaps—sprang to their posts without so much as a moment’s hesitation. Sailors not required on oars took up bows and readied arrows behind the iron walls on the main deck. “Expected of experienced soldiers, sure,” Toshio thought, “but these are mere boatbuilders! How is it they appear so well-practiced and at ease?!”
The ninja scaled down the mast with the utmost haste, trying to make sense of the unsensible. Tanjiro, Shibuya’s son and sole voice of reason among the crewmembers, voiced his unease.
“N-now isn’t the time for this, Father! There’s too much that could go wrong...the iron plating is already throwing us unbalanced as it is! We haven’t tested how the Tekkō will handle rapid maneuvers!”
It struck Toshio as odd that the existence of pirates seemed of secondary concern to Tanjiro. He highly doubted the young man had ever been under attack on the ocean before, yet his greatest worries were much more mundane.
“Urusai, Tanji! Get the Inspector and take him to the main deck with the archers. Let’s see if these Sumitomo bastards can put a dent in us! Hahaha!”
Toshio didn’t recall mentioning they were Sumitomo pirates. It was quite an assumption to make considering the Sumitomo were stationed South in the waters around Genfu, not in Jijinto. It was also worth noting that Shibuya seemed to know the pirates would approach them from their starboard side.
“Do you take me for a fool?” Toshio asked, stopping midway down the stairs inside the armored shell. He took Tanjiro’s hand—which had been leading him down—and twisted it, pulling the shipbuilder close. “I don’t appreciate being lied to, Tanjiro.”
“S-so you saw through the theatrics...I knew this was a dumb idea. But Father is determined to show off the ship in actual battle. These...pirates, they’ll shoot a few arrows and then leave. Hopefully,” Tanjiro winced, “that’ll be the end of it!”
A few metallic thuds against the hull signalled that the pirate vessel was within range. The armored carapace of the Tekkōsen was an engineering marvel all its own: there were slits in the shell where archers could see the enemy, and beside them were moveable sections—shields, essentially—that crew members would close and open depending on whether the archer was ready to shoot or was busy reloading.
The crew’s lack of both military discipline and soberness became apparent, however, as the men bumbled about with arrows, bows and shields falling every which way. It did them no favors that many had never shot a bow before, Toshio determined, as he stopped one crewmember from firing an arrow into his own chest.
“I’m surrounded by idiots, spirits help me!”
A wooden creak broke out from the lower deck. Though ships were known to screech and groan, after this particular sound it seemed as if the floor was tilted towards the right. The only engineer on the ship confirmed Toshio’s observation.
“There’s too much weight on the starboard! We need to move those shields portside—now!” Tanjiro yelled, though the crew only offered him blank glances. They took orders from Shibuya and not a mumbling kid.
The man himself came down the stairs with a wicked grin. His face was flushed, his eyes wide and unblinking. Toshio knew the look: it was that of a man enraptured in the heat of battle. The shipbuilder had never experienced a naval combat before, and even a mock fight such as this was enough to send a foreign thrill down his spine.
It was the sort of thrill that made men do foolish things.
“The Tekkōsen’s performing even better than I expected! Them pirate bastards can’t lay so much as a dent on us! Hahaha!” Shibuya laughed, then took a swig out of a saké bottle. He tossed it overboard after he was done. “Say it’s time we show the Inspector our secret weapon, boys! Take a look at the future of naval warfare!”
Toshio’s attention was directed towards a large, lengthy object draped in a white sheet at the center of the deck. The ninja had originally assumed it was a spare mast, and to his credit he wasn’t far off the mark. It was three maple logs tied together, though with something special at the front tip.
It was an iron weight: an anchor that had been repurposed and recasted, designed with the likeness of a shark. A bullheaded shark, to be precise.
“That there’s the Shibuya spirit animal, all eleven ‘undred pounds of her! Slide her up to the stern, boys—we’ll see how this pirate ship handles a battering ram! Full speed ahead!”
The battering ram was on wheels, but even then it took every oarsman grunting, sweating and cursing to move it forward. As it moved away from the center, the Tekkōsen began to dip forward. This was a problem that didn’t require extensive education to understand: the ram rolled forth on its own, picking up speed and dragging the crew with it.
“Hold her! Hold her steady, damn it!” Shibuya shouted. A man screamed in reply—his foot had gotten caught under one of the wheels. Though he was likely to be limping for the rest of his life, his foot had managed to halt the ram just in time. The other crew members quickly tied it down with ropes to the stern. The Tekkōsen now had a spear from out of its nose.
“Father, please! This is madness!” Tanjiro cried out but his voice was drowned by the splash of crashing waves. The Tekkōsen wobbled, creaked and spun at every turn of the ocean; her crew tasted saltwater as it sprayed across the bow. Its captain shouted orders for men to return to their oars.
“Shibuya! She’s taking on water! Half the lower deck is flooded!” a sailor cried.
Shibuya grabbed the man by the collar and pushed him below deck with a splash. If he kept this up he’d be in for a mutiny. “Turn us starboard, sailor! We’re going to chase this pirate outta the water if it’s the last thing we—”
The captain quieted once Toshio’s arm wrapped around his neck. He was staring at a kunai—a ninja’s throwing dagger—held in front of his face by none other than the Heartless Hound. Toshio held Shibuya hostage, daring any of his crewmembers to make a move.
“H-have you lost it, Inspector?! Let him go!” Tanjiro pleaded.
“Crewmen!” Toshio barked, his eyes livid. “As a naval inspector for His Imperial Majesty, I am commandeering this vessel. I am invoking the law as described in Article Five, Section A of the Celestial Sea Charters. You are to return the Tekkōsen to the shore immediately!”
Though there was no Article Five, there didn’t need to be: the composed ninja had become the Heartless Hound, instilling fear and discipline in even the most drunken sailor. And even if he hadn’t, the raising water level in the lower deck made for a compelling argument.
Shibuya’s men weren’t pleased about it but took Toshio’s orders all the same. All save for an older man who scrutinized the ninja’s face and didn’t like what he saw. He was, according to his boast, the only one among them who was a samurai by blood. He was a Southerner too, judging from his accent.
“Aye...these eyes ‘ave seen enough of dirtskins to spot ‘em in the dark! You’re an awfully pale one—but I knows what you are! Fought enough of you bear-worshippin’ bastards back in the war! Ain’t gonna let you gut my boss!”
The retired samurai-turned-boatbuilder pulled out a knife more akin to a meat cleaver. He swung the weapon haphazardly, forcing Toshio to step back and drag Shibuya along with him. It was more for the captain’s safety than his own; Shibuya was a much larger target and the cleaver didn’t discriminate.
“Put that thing down, Noda-san! The Inspector means well...and he certainly isn’t a Kondo!” Shibuya cried. This was the first hostage situation Toshio had seen where the hostage pleaded the would-be rescuer to stop.
Toshio backed up again until he was up against the center mast. Realizing the danger of fighting atop a wobbly ship, the ninja conceded and released Shibuya. The captain pushed off and hurried away, though in his wake the crazed veteran of the Kondo War charged ahead!
*chop*
The cleaver wedged into the mast, cutting rope and wood instead skin and tendons. The ninja had managed to duck and roll to safety, nearly going overboard while doing so. Bracing the railing of the upper deck, Toshio turned around to see his attacker.
But what he saw was many times worse: the rope Noda had cut flew upwards as the main mast of the Tekkōsen flew open. The crew had been using only oars to power the floating fortress so that it was easier to control; now the heavenly power of wind was involved.
And at that moment, the heavens blew.
“She’s keeling over!” Shibuya cried. The gust pushed the ship straight ahead—which meant it went straight down, with the weight of the battering ram sending them under. The largest ship Hyugan waters had ever seen flipped on its head, and its crew was now under it!
It was an expensive tombstone for a watery grave. Especially for the shinobi who couldn’t swim.
■■■■
The weight of the Tekkōsen against the ocean’s surface as it flopped and capsized nearly crushed those on the top deck, including Toshio. Were it not for the mast dragging across the ocean’s floor, they would’ve been killed on impact.
As it was, Toshio was only blacked out and unconscious inside the crashed fortress. His body was pushed, prodded and pulled around by the debris of the collapsing ship. He was sucked inside it, up into its lower decks that were now at the top of the capsized vessel. At least there was air there—all of which flooded into the ninja’s lungs.
“AAAAAH! Aaahhh, ahhh!” Toshio gasped for breath, panting heavily. It was dark and his head pounded and the rest of him was sore. Blood was in the water—no doubt his own, as his lips and limbs were cut by broken planks of wood.
The shinobi treaded water while frantically feeling around the hull for a means of escape. He saw none because he saw nothing: it was pitch black inside this watery grave, the screams of men echoing around him.
“Am I dead? What sort of hell have I ended up in?!”
Toshio was sure of nothing save that the water level was raising. He reached a hand up and felt the ceiling above him. By determining how close it was to his head, he’d be able to calculate how many seconds he had left to live.
“Kuso! What a dismal fate!” Toshio yelled, before swallowing and gagging out a mouthful of saltwater. “Satsu-kun, please! I’m not supposed to die here! My father...my people...our future—there’s still so much work yet to be done!”
The ninja’s throat throbbed painfully from gurgling bloody saltwater and shouting at the top of his lungs. He took in a deep breath to regain his composure; being overwhelmed with fear would assuredly kill him. But the reality was that he couldn’t swim and that the act of keeping his head above water was becoming a more and more difficult task.
But that wouldn’t stop him from trying to escape. After one large breath and then another, Toshio took a third before holding it and dunking his head down. He opened his eyes and only got a sting for his troubles, confirming what he had already known: there was no way to see where he was going. He paddled using his hands and feet, but when that became counterproductive he opted to crawl down (or up) the hull instead.
That worked until he bumped his head into a beam. His mouth opened and consequently flooded; he had to return back up for air.
“Aaah, curse it all!” Toshio said to himself. He raised a hand to see how much time he had left, and could only get it half as high as before. “I can’t escape this deathtrap. Is this divine punishment for trying to take up the role of the Sword?!”
The ninja closed his eyes and prayed. He listened not just for the spirits but the sailors screaming in other areas of the ship. Except there weren’t any, not anymore. “They must’ve already drowned,” Toshio thought, his dire situation taking a turn for the hopeless.
It was at that moment of hopelessness, when his head thumped against the ceiling and the air ran thin, that the proud ninja—the Heartless Hound—become truly humbled. He cried for the first time since his mother passed so many years ago. He pleaded for help, fresh saltwater coming down his eyes as he begged for mercy.
And at that moment, something caught onto his leg and dragged him under.
■■■■
“Yes, vomiting is quite what you’d expect in the case of near drowning.”
That voice belonged to Doctor Fujii of Fish-Eye Hospital. He wore a pair of spectacles that made his eyes look comically large, though Toshio was in no shape for humor. The ninja was bent over and peering into a bucket, tossing up fluids which belonged both to himself and the ocean.
“I’m just so happy you’re alive, Inspector!” said Shibuya, who was on his knees clenching his hands together. “If there’s anything, anything my boys and I can do to make this up to you, we’ll do it in a heartbeat! Ain’t that right?”
Once Toshio was finished retching, he gave a look over the crew crowded into the clinic’s emergency room. They all had their heads down as they muttered their apologies, some outright pleading for their lives. They knew the danger they and their company was in after that shipwreck.
“It is remarkable,” Toshio said, wiping his mouth with a cloth, “that no one died. It certainly would’ve been nice to know about the escape hatches earlier.”
Shibuya placed his head down against the clinic’s floor as he continued to apologize. Toshio had been trapped under the ship for over an hour—though it had felt like seconds at the time. The screams the ninja had heard weren’t cries from drowning sailors but from rescue parties, risking their lives for his.
The one who had found him happened to be none other than Noda, the man who had swung a kitchen knife at him earlier. When Toshio asked why he saved him, the old veteran only mumbled about his upcoming execution at the hands of the Emperor.
“I’ll be needin’ a katana for my seppuku,” he said, referring to the suicide ritual. “Always figured I’d die with ‘ah sword in my hands. Never reckoned it’d be like this, though...”
True enough, attacking an officer employed in His Imperial Majesty’s navy and capsizing a vessel was a seppuku-worthy offense. For a samurai. But this old sailor was no samurai any more than Toshio was a naval inspector. Noda had dived under the wreckage of a floating fortress to save him. And that was worth something.
“Have mercy on Noda-san, please,” said Tanjiro, who now kneeled next to his father. “I’m the one who...who engineered the Tekkōsen. She shouldn’t have sailed—it was my fault she sunk.”
“No, Tanji, you fool!” Shibuya said, shaking his son. “You tried to stop us, but I refused to listen. Inspector, please, I am...I was the captain. I assume full ‘sponsibility on account of my crew. When you...when you report this to the Emperor, please spare ‘em all you can!”
The crew members then took turns shifting the blame onto themselves, until it seemed as if the Imperial executioner was going to have his work cut out for him. It was a heartwarming moment, even if Toshio was shivering from a newly-acquired cold.
The shinobi raised a hand to silence them. “Before I get to that, I want to know about the yakuza who were interested in the Tekkōsen. Who leads them?”
Shibuya choked down a breath, relieved for the sudden change in subject. “Lord Yamagata runs them, well—he’s their boss, anyways. The one interested in a fleet ‘o warships was his wife. Rather, wife-to-be. Not much of a looker, truth be told, but rumor ‘round town is that she’s loaded with ryō!”
“Does she have a wart on her face?” Toshio asked and Shibuya nodded. “Her name?”
“Shi...er..oyama? Shiroyama, that’s it.”
Toshio then turned towards the shipwrights, many of which were too fearful to glance up from their sandals. They hung their heads in shame, awaiting for the Imperial inspector’s verdict. Their appearance of weakness made him recall Satsuma’s parting words.
“It is not your strengths that worry me, Toshio-san. I am more concerned about the weaknesses that you are reluctant to see.”
The weaknesses were threefold, Toshio realized, the first two of them obvious: his unfamiliarity with ships and his inability to swim. Those would be remedied as soon as he returned to the Capital. But the last he had only come to terms with in the moment before his apparent death at sea.
“I need others. If I’m to survive the trials ahead...if I’m to serve Satsu-kun and the Sword Who Cuts the Heavens, I have to accept the help of others.”
Toshio was so swept up in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice the poignant silence that filled the air. The crew and employees of Shibuya & Sons fearfully awaited their fate, uncertain of both their lives and livelihoods.
It was time to cast aside the fear.
“As for what happened out at sea,” the ninja said, pausing as the men drew in a collective breath, “I will look over this mishap—on one condition.”
Shibuya pounced up from the floor as if a hundred hornets had needled his behind. “Yes! Anything! Anything at all, Inspector!”
Toshio brought a hand to his chin, his eyes piercingly cold and calculating. He had just learned to rely on others, and was determined to put the new lesson into practice.
“Set up a meeting with Shiroyama.”
