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Side Story #2: Masashi's First Day
🕑 Added 2018-08-07 16:31:14 +0000 UTC <Author’s note: This story takes place before the events of Book 1.>▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀
Side Story 2: Masashi’s First Day
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■■ The Academy ■■
“Oh, I simply cannot stand it! I refuse to part with my dear baby brother!”
The eldest daughter of the Hashimoto wore a hand-painted kimono in the color of peaches, with white lilies dancing across the front and down the sleeves. In one hand she clenched an oil-paper umbrella that matched her outfit both in color and design. In the other hand, she clenched the boy who was destined to become a shugenja.
“Onee-san...I’m not a baby anymore,” Masashi said, trying to sound stern and mature. It was hard to do with his stature, which—while standing—barely reached his sister’s belly button. It was also hard to be taken seriously when you were being cuddled and swung about in one of his sister’s notorious hugs.
“You must think our family horrid, to lock you up for a year only to cart you off to this...this institution!” The older sister yelled, paying no mind to the Headmaster of the Academy who stood at the entrance to Masashi’s dorm room.
“N-Now now, Lady Amaterasu, I assure you that the Academy provides both the safest and most productive learning environment in all of Hyuga. For gifted youngsters such as Masashi-kun, this place can be considered a second home!”
Amaterasu released her clinch around her baby brother and glared at the interloper. The rest of the Hashimoto family and their retainers had already said their goodbyes, though she couldn’t help but linger just a little longer.
“Just so we have an understanding, Headmaster, should any ill befall my sweet little Masa-kun, your funding shan’t be the only only thing I cut to shreds! Do I make myself clear?”
The Headmaster assured Amaterasu through a series of bows, groveling and glorified begging. Masashi had seen men act this way before back at his family’s estate—usually when they wanted financial support for one reason or another.
“I suppose this is farewell, then.” Amaterasu reached down to give Masashi one final hug, and then whispered in his ear. “Never forget that you are a Hashimoto. It’s not always easy to be better than everyone else. Bye-bye, Masashi.”
“Bye-bye, Onee-san…” Masashi replied between sniffles. With his sister gone and the scent of the lavender perfume fading, the young shugenja-in-training now felt well and truly alone. As the Headmaster guided him down the hall he couldn’t help but get nervous.
Masashi was well-versed in Shinto lore and had extraordinary magical energy, or so the head of the shugenja school insisted. It was hard to tell flattery from honesty, and being considered ‘special’ was the last thing Masashi wanted. What he did want, above all else, was to make some friends.
As they reached a pair of shoji doors, a yelling could be heard from the other side. That was until the Headmaster cleared his throat and slid open the door. The instructor—a man with a monocle and a perpetual scowl—cut himself off mid-sentence.
“W-why, yes of course. Everyone! Stand and bow for Headmaster-sama.” Masashi counted the heads of ten students that bowed—albeit reluctantly—to their superior.
“Ahem. It is my honor to introduce Masashi Hashimoto, the newest student of our Academy. His family has been very generous over the years, so I am certain you will all make him feel welcome.”
When they unbowed Masashi saw that he was the youngest by a fair margin. He couldn’t bare the weight of their stares so he looked down at his sandals instead. “Why is everyone so much bigger than me? It’s so embarrassing!”
“Of course we will. Please, Hashimoto-san, take a seat.” The teacher pointed to the only seat in the front row, which was set apart from the others as if it were a place of honor. Masashi however felt nothing but shame, as any attempt at blending in was now impossible. As he sat down he felt the glances and heard the whispering that came from behind him.
As soon as the Headmaster left, one of the students—an older girl—raised her hand. She stood up once the instructor permitted her to speak. Masashi could only see her out of the corner of his eye, but she looked pretty even though her kimono was the plainest he had ever seen. Maybe she could be a potential friend.
“Um, Sensei? Shouldn’t he be with the first years? He looks like he’s ten!”
The whole classroom erupted into laughter, and it would take the better half of a minute for the teacher to bring them back to order. But that minute felt like several lifetimes to Masashi, who sunk down into his chair wanting to be anywhere but here. “Onee-san…help me...”
“That’s enough! Your observation is duly noted. Hashimoto-san was tested before admittance, and both his aptitude and knowledge scores are among the best we’ve seen. Some of the instructors wanted him placed a grade higher,” the teacher sighed. “If only the rest of you had half his potential!”
Now everyone was giving him mean looks, or so Masashi had to imagine. Amaterasu had warned him that those of the ‘lower caste’ would be jealous of him, and that he ought to embrace his natural superiority. But all Masashi wanted was for them to like him, no matter what caste they were from.
Proceeding with the class, the teacher lectured upon talisman magic—specifically, how to imbue items with it so that non-shugenja could make use of it. It was absolutely fascinating, and while Masashi had already read over the material during his year of isolation, hearing it from a real shugenja was far more interesting. It was also a good distraction from his prior embarrassment.
“This is an advanced spell infusion technique that even seasoned shugenja struggle with. Since you all have no doubt read the required readings for today, each of you should be able to explain what the ritual necessitates. Who would like to volunteer?”
There was a long silence in the classroom. Masashi looked around as cautiously as he dared, to see if anyone had raised their hand. When no one did, and the teacher threatened the class with additional homework, Masashi decided it was now or never.
He raised his hand.
“—hm? Oh yes, Hashimoto-san! Please stand and describe the ritual as best you can.”
Masashi gulped and stood. For once he was glad he couldn’t see the other students. His older sister had said that he was better than everyone else, and while Masashi wasn’t so sure about that, he had no intention of getting punished when he knew the answer by heart.
“Y-yes, Sensei. To...to imbue an item with magic requires two shugenjas acting concurrently. One must inscribe the talisman with the intended spell while the other instills their magical energy into the receiving item. If the wills of the shugenjas are properly linked, a successful transfer occurs. The item is then able to be activated at will—even by someone with no spiritual connection at all.”
“Perfection! Thank you for enlightening the class, Hashimoto-san. Now then, as we see on page thirty-five…” the teacher trailed off, scratching markings against the board. Masashi fell back into his seat.
*wham*
Instead of his seat, Masashi fell right down to the ground—one of the students had pulled his chair from under him. It prompted a series of snickers and giggles to break out from the others. Names like ‘teacher’s pet’ and ‘know-it-all’ were among the whispers swirling behind him.
Masashi sniffled and tried his best not to cry. He buried his face into his book, praying for this class—and his entire stay at the Academy—to end a quickly as possible. “Everyone hates me...maybe I should just go home...”
A knock on the shoji doors interrupted the lecture. Masashi appreciated anything that took the attention away from him, and in this case it was six men armed with katanas, each more intimidating than the last.
“Now class, allow me to introduce the prospective samurai for the Emperor’s elite task force. These gentlemen hope to soon become members of the renowned Shinsengumi!”
“They’re so cool!” Masashi was beside himself with excitement. While he had been around samurai for most of his life, he never considered his retainers to be like the swordsmen in his stories: brave and formidable men who rescued maidens and faced down entire armies.
Of the six, one of them seemed different than the others. He was a pale man with handsome features, who kept his hair long and wore red highlights beside his eyes. He was yawning and looked the least happy to be there.
“For the final part of their training, they must cooperate with you shugenja for a combat demonstration. The harmony of martial and magical arts is how Hyuga has become the perfect nation that it is today. It is how we defeated the barbaric Kondos and quelled invaders from both outside and within!”
“Hai!” The class replied in unison. The excitement was tangible—working together with some of the most elite samurai in the country was an opportunity of a lifetime! “Maybe school isn’t so bad afterall—yeah! You can do this, Masashi!”
“Now class, pair off into groups of two. Each group shall be assigned a samurai.” The teacher’s words shattered what little esteem Masashi had managed to recover. The young student was beset with dread, the sinking sensation growing as the class broke off into pairs.
Both his popularity and the math wasn’t on his side. Together with Masashi there were eleven students, which made him the odd one out. He couldn’t do anything but wait until the teacher noticed the problem. After the five groups were assigned their samurai, Masashi timidly admitted his lack of a partner.
“Hm...oh, that’s right. Hikiko-chan is absent today—as usual. You’ll find her in her room, number forty-nine in the residence hall. It looks like you two will be paired up with Hamasaki-san today.” The teacher gestured to the unique-looking samurai, and Masashi bowed.
“H-hello, my name is Masashi Hashimoto. Pleased to meet you.”
Sadao Hamasaki scratched his chin. He was about to complain about getting paired up with a child, until he heard the boy’s family name. As a Yamato city socialite, the samurai who moonlighted as a kabuki star couldn’t help but be amused.
“With a name like that, maybe we can bribe ourselves to victory.”
■■■■
Forty-Nine was the unluckiest number there was, as far as Masashi was concerned. The numbers four and nine meant ‘death’ and ‘suffering’ respectively. Sure it was superstitious but shugenja were taught to be observant of omens. “And this one looks particularly bad!”
Masashi walked down the residence hall with the reluctant samurai trailing behind him. When he wasn’t covering his mouth for a yawn he was inspecting his nails; apparently he had plans for the evening where he needed to look at his best. As for what he was up to, he wouldn’t say.
“My plans are none of your concern, Hashimoto. Let us focus on winning this farce of a competition, shall we?” Though even as Sadao said it, his focus was elsewhere. To him, being counted among the most elite samurai in the country was more than just an honor.
It was a marriage requirement. His parents had arranged for him to marry the daughter of a noble lord; her name was Kanae and she was above his station both in class and wealth. Their arrangement hinged entirely on his acceptance into the Shinsengumi.
A lot of pressure for a man who’s true calling was the kabuki stage.
“I-I didn’t mean to pry, Hamasaki-san. I just wondered what samurai did for fun, when they weren’t working,” Masashi smiled with unease. His attempt at making small talk to fill the silence had backfired—it seemed that making a friend was well and truly hopeless.
“Samurai are spectacularly dull. The Shinsengumi most of all...and yet,” Sadao groaned, “I have no choice but to join them. Your instructor didn’t mention this, but only one of us in my group will be accepted into the Shinsengumi this year. The losers earn themselves a one-way trip to the Shima barracks out east. Their idea of entertainment out there is watching pigs roll around in the mud! I cannot afford to lose!”
Masashi gulped. A lot of pressure for a student on his first day of school.
“I-I will do my best, Hamasaki-san. And I’m certain Hikiko-senpai feels the same way!” After encouraging himself, Masashi knocked on the door to room forty-nine where his partner was waiting. “She’s probably shy, just like me. I’m sure we’ll have so much in common!”
After knocking and waiting and then knocking and waiting some more, Masashi was beginning to grow doubtful. He didn’t want to let the samurai down nor come back to the classroom empty-handed, so he braced himself for what he had to do next.
“P-pardon me,” Masashi said as he slid open the door. He immediately became face-to-face with a disembodied head: a ghost in the form of a girl, with near translucent, sickly skin and a web of hair that stretched down to the floor. Her eyes were large and opened wide, and beneath them were dark shadows—no doubt a sign of fatigue from consuming spirits!
“Eiiiiiyah?!” Masashi screamed, tripping backwards into the hallway.
When his heart started beating again, the young student recovered to his feet. He looked towards the samurai for help but Sadao simply gave him a shrug. Peering back into the room, Masashi got a better look at the girl named Hikiko-chan.
She was less frightening from this angle, outside the shadows of her darkened room. She wasn’t a disembodied head; Hikiko wore an oversized kimono that was as black as her hair, giving away that illusion.
“Strangers. Leave. Stop knocking.” Hikiko’s words were short and monotone, spoken with as little energy as possible. She proceeded to slid shut her door though to no avail—Sadao had stuck his foot into the doorway.
“Look, we’re not here to police your sense of fashion. Though I’d say it’s downright criminal.”
“Hamasaki-san is right,” Masashi nodded, approaching the ghost once more. He then bowed respectfully and offered an apology. “Please forgive me for my outburst, Hikiko-senpai! My name is Masashi Hashimoto, and I am your partner for a very important class project.”
Hikiko breathed audibly through her mouth, as if trying to taste Masashi’s words. After a series of heaves, she stuck out her hand. Masashi was confused but he had read about foreign customs before. Shaking hands upon greeting was one of them. “Could Hikiko-chan be a foreigner?”
But instead of shaking his hand, Hikiko used her fingers to trace Masashi’s palm. The older girl’s fingers were frigid and left goosebumps in their wake. It was hardly a pleasant or even a ticklish experience, yet Masashi endured it all the same. When his classmate was satisfied, she let out the faintest of smiles.
“Red Panda. Kawaii...” Hikiko mumbled with delight. Masashi was happy to get her approval, even if the method was a little weird.
Hikiko then looked over at Sadao, who rolled his eyes and reluctantly held out his hand.
“Shrew. Disgusting...please leave.”
“W-why you! The shrew is among the most formidable of moles in Hyuga! How dare you claim my spirit animal to be repulsive!”
While the two argued Masashi took a peek inside the room. The walls were covered in some sort of black paint, making it look as if it was midnight instead of noon. Atop the wall across from Hikiko’s futon was a poster, drawn in the flashy style that was used to advertise kabuki plays. This one depicted a man with most of his body exposed.
“You’re interested in kabuki, Hikiko-senpai?”
Hikiko gasped and ran to the wall with her arms outstretched, as if to hide the poster with her body. As for the reason why, she offered but a single word: “Embarrassing.”
“I’d say,” Sadao chuckled. “A pin-up of Hanshirō the First...what era are we in again? He’s an old geezer these days! Keeps forgetting his lines—impossible to work with!”
Masashi could feel the spiritual energy in the room begin to shake and tinge with fury. Hikiko’s body was doing much the same. The ghostly girl, upon having her beloved idol insulted, pulled out a talisman from her sleeve, casting it right in Sadao’s direction.
“Hamasaki-san!” Masashi yelled as the spell activated.
*speeeew*
A stream of black ink shot out from her hands, the same coating that covered her walls. It was thick and viscous, and was certain to be a pain to get off your kimono. The samurai was about to get covered in tar!
Or perhaps not. Sadao proved his mettle by evading the sludge, ducking under it and rolling across Hikiko’s futon, using her blankets as a shield. When the stream stopped and only a puddle of ink remained, the tempers flared.
“You’re absolutely insane!” Sadao yelled. “I’ve no intention whatsoever to work with this...this creature! I’m leaving.”
“Sayonara,” Hikiko said, bidding him an apathetic goodbye.
“H-hold on, you two! We’re supposed to be working together!” Masashi pleaded. He couldn’t bear the thought of failing his first assignment. “To properly imbue an item for Hamasaki-san requires two shugenja working at once!”
Masashi stomped his feet and puffed up his cheeks to form a menacing pout. It was childish but it was the only card he had left to play. His eyes began to burn and his vision became blurry—but he wouldn’t dare to let himself cry in front of his teammates.
Hikiko walked over and placed her hand atop Masashi’s head. She started rubbing it, as if her fellow student was a pet. “Shh...shh...Panda-kun. Will help after I get tickets.”
Masashi sniffled and wiped his welled-up tears with his sleeve. “Tickets? To what, Hikiko-senpai?”
“Kabuki. Need autograph. Saburo Honda...dreamy,” Hikiko admitted, a slight blush coloring her otherwise colorless cheeks. It didn’t help her embarrassment any when Sadao buckled over with laughter.
“Bwhahaha! And here I was, questioning your taste in star performers!” The samurai spoke with a loud, bellowing voice—one that could carry throughout a crowded theater. He wiped away his hair from his face and gave an assuring grin, his teeth somehow glistening even in the room’s darkness.
“Listen up, you two: get me into the Shinsengumi and I’ll make sure that Saburo Honda gives you a performance that you’ll never forget!”
■■■■
Later that day at the Academy’s reception hall, a large commotion was stirring. Samurai and shugenja of the highest ranks stood in attendance, everyone wearing their finest silk in preparation to receive His Imperial Majesty himself, Emperor Satsuma.
What had originally been intended as a routine examination had grown into something much more. The Emperor’s sudden visit had turned the entire Academy on its face.
Both Hikiko and Sadao stood with the other groups, and every student and their samurai were visibly nervous. While no stranger to stage fright, for the examiner to be the Emperor himself was a surprise to everyone—Sadao included. The Headmaster was as alarmed as anyone, as he was drenched in sweat and unable to keep his voice steady.
“It—it is my, my greatest honor to welcome to our humble school, His Imperial Majesty and ruler of Hyuga! Satsuma-sama the Young Lion now graces our halls with his presence! Behold the…” the Headmaster trailed off, going over each of the Emperor’s titles.
“Where’s Hashimoto?” Sadao whispered, his eyes bloodshot and his fingers shaking.
“Sleeping. Used incredible amount of energy.”
“And...you’re certain these rings will work?” Failure was not an option here, not in front of his liege lord. Shipping off to Shima would be the least of the samurai’s concerns if he disappointed the Emperor. He may very well have to take his own life here, should he bring his family shame.
“Of course they work, Shrew. Or should I say...Saburo?” Hikiko gave Sadao a knowing stare. She had found out Sadao’s second identity, though not through any conventional means.
The Emperor walked with a grace and sense of purpose that was difficult to describe. He wasted no more time with formalities than was absolutely necessary, and looked upon the group of samurai and shugenja students with a smile.
“What a promising group of recruits I see,” Satsuma said, addressing the samurai. “And these students, I am certain that each of you will become a talented shugenja one day. I look forward to being present during your graduations.”
A shinobi in blue garb appeared beside Satsuma, whispering into his ear. Afterwards the Emperor closed his eyes and nodded, and then proceeded with the judgements. As Hikiko and Sadao were at the back of the line, it stood to reason that the Emperor would get to them last.
But after inspecting a magical sheath that re-oiled the blade after each use, Satsuma took a direct route in their direction. Sadao and Hikiko bowed as low and respectfully as they could. Just being in his presence was awe-inspiring; to be the focus of his attention was nothing short of a spiritual experience.
“Please stand,” the Emperor spoke. He then took a long look at Sadao and Hikiko, both of which were trembling under his scrutiny. “What stands before me is a samurai and a shugenja...and yet, neither appears to be the one I seek.”
Sadao’s blood vessels were close to bursting under the stress. Had he failed before he even began? Did the Emperor know of his hidden career as a kabuki actor? Was Sadao about to be asked to take his own life?
“Forgive me, that was quite rude of me to say.” The Emperor began the motion to bow, until the ninja beside him placed a hand upon His Imperial Majesty’s shoulder. Bowing was a habit the newly-anointed Emperor would have to break. And speaking of breaking, Sadao’s heart nearly broke out of his chest at the idea of Satsuma-sama bowing to him.
“Right. Now then, without further ado, please provide a demonstration of your imbued item.”
Sadao nodded before he realized who he was in the company of, and gave a series of deep bows instead. After he assured the Emperor that he was sufficiently humble, he slipped on the rings and wiggled his fingers.
He closed his eyes and thought long and hard, trying his hardest to think of nothing at all but the man several lengths across from him. That’s when he heard the voice speak between his ears.
“A sword...which cuts the heavens?”
No sooner did Sadao finish his question that he was on his knees—forcibly, after the ninja kicked his legs from under him. Brought to the ground in the span of a single second, Sadao was now gasping for breath as the Emperor’s top shinobi locked his throat in a deadly chokehold.
*inhale*
The entire populace of the reception hall breathed in all at once, a collective gasp at the unimaginable sight before them. It was in this moment of silence that the Emperor's voice would boom across the hall.
“At ease, Toshio! This one has a role to play. I’m sure of it.”
■■■■
Masashi laid in his bed, staring up at the ceiling and nursing a headache. He was exhausted but was too nervous to fall asleep. The shugenja-in-training had used every ounce of energy he had for Hikiko’s spell; his desire to win—and to not let his companions down—had pushed him beyond his limits.
“And now I’ve missed the competition itself! How big of a baka can I be?!” Masashi placed his pillow atop his face as if to hide from the world. He wouldn’t be able to hide for long, as a knock on his door bolted him upright.
“C-come in.”
The dark mass that emerged from the hallway could be nobody else but Hikiko-chan. Before addressing Masashi the girl walked over to the window and closed the blinds. Suitably comfortable, the visitor stood over Masashi’s futon and stared. She kept staring until Masashi finally asked the question.
“How did it go, Hikiko-senpai? Did Hamasaki-san win?”
“Young Lion was there.”
Masashi nearly choked on his own spit. “His—His Imperial Majesty was in attendance?! Why would he...unless, could it be? Was he the judge for the prospective samurai?” It made sense of course, being that the Shinsengumi acted as his bodyguards, but for him to test them in person…“I can’t believe I missed my chance to meet him! I’m such a baka!”
“Over quickly,” Hikiko replied, her voice as emotionless as ever. “Took one look at the rings we made. Announced Shrew-san to be the winner.”
Masashi jumped up from his futon and gave Hikiko a hug. “Isn’t it wondrous, Hikiko-senpai? We did it! I can’t believe we did it!” The boy’s excitement was contagious, and not even his ghostly peer was immune. The older student looked away while a blush lit her cheeks.
“The quickening spell you crafted must’ve been amazing,” Masashi exclaimed, releasing his grasp. “You must tell me more!”
Hikiko shook her head. “Not quickening. You gave too much energy. Tried something new. Dangerous.”
Masashi’s eyes went wide with surprise. “I didn’t even notice...what spell did we enchant the rings with, Hikiko-senpai?”
“Mind reading. I wanted to know what you were thinking.”
“Wh-wha-what did you say?! That’s so...so humiliating!” Masashi grabbed his head as if to shield it. “I wasn’t thinking of anything weird, was I?”
There had been several thoughts going through the boy’s mind during the casting of that spell. Thoughts of victory and kabuki, of becoming a shugenja and of bringing honor to his family’s name. But there was one desire that surpassed all the others.
“Very weird,” Hikiko replied. “But I accept, Masashi Hashimoto. I will be your friend.”
■■■■
Comments
Devon Connell
Lmao did he really? Book 1 and Book 2, man...I'd take this short story as the canon explanation though just because it's more fun and interesting. Also, nice observation!
Roaring_Donut
I thought it was bashō who gave him his rings, sadao says so in Book 2
Peace210ve
OH THE ENDING(sniff) and THATS HOW SADAO GOT HIS RING!!! I love this so much, ack I’m crying now oh jeezuz
