Ronin's Revenge

When Ryoma finally awoke, he noticed harsh sunlight to contrast with the utter darkness he’d been enveloped in not too long ago. To be precise, the harshness of the rays betrayed the notion that it was morning; had it been closer to sunrise, the room would’ve been illuminated in more dulcet, tangerine hues with merely a hint of the warmth of the day to come. Contrasted with the current atmosphere, the sun was absolutely radiating. The samurai assumed it was closer to noon.

Next, Ryoma took stock of the room itself. From what he could surmise, it appeared as though he was sheltered in a tool shed. Various tools adorned the far wall and also rested in a barrel in the corner. They were in varying stages of use as some were the rustier than others. For example, the sickle had clearly seen much love over the years, rusted near completely over, while the farming hoe appeared to be good as new, still waiting ever so patiently to be broken in properly. There were a dozen others in various states of decay spanning betwixt the two, none of which really deserved note.

The babbling sound of the river graced Ryoma’s ears, he realized. He sighed in relief, knowing that his senses were returning to him quite nicely. Then, however, the ache of his muscles surged and he cursed his senses instead. Curiosity prompted a visit of his hand to his neck. After all, the wound from Orochi seemed fairly severe; he still had no idea how he survived the poisoning as he imagined a demon lord’s venom would be beyond fatal for a human.

As for the bite mark itself, Ryoma cautiously moved his fingertips to the injection site and felt a sarashi, a piece of cloth. He traced it around the rest of his neck and realized someone must have treated and wrapped the injury for him. At first, he was stumped, completely befuddled as to who performed the medical treatment. Then, however, he remembered the girl he’d seen in the lantern light. He figured that she must’ve been responsible. Thinking on the matter further, the samurai unlocked the memory of her outfit as well; she was a shrine maiden!

Ryoma, noting that he was alone in the shed, decided that the best course of action was to find the shrine maiden and properly thank her. Though still a tad weary, he managed to lift himself onto his feet and began to make his way out of the shed into the harsh sunlight. Once outside, he confirmed his suspicions concerning the time; the sun hung neatly in the center of the sky, meaning it was, in fact, midday. Once his eyes adjusted, the samurai basked in the warmth of the sun and felt truly alive for the first time in hours, nearly forgetting about the horrific events of the previous night.

That was until Ryoma saw it in the river. Had he not hyper-fixated on the lily pads floating on the other bank of the water, he would have completely missed it. It blended in so well that it might as well have been part of the scenery. It bobbed up and down with the ebb and flow of the river, exposing only down from the crown of its head to its beady eyes. There could be no mistaking it; the samurai had found a kappa, a water demon.

“Are you here to finish me off?” Ryoma asked. He supposed it only made sense that Orochi would send an assassin of sorts to make sure the samurai didn’t live through the ordeal. However, the kappa refused to answer. It only continued to stare. Instead of waiting for a response any longer, Ryoma began to walk backward and returned to the shed. Then, he noticed the true danger of the situation; his sword was missing. He didn’t think about it in his delirium, but both his katana and ofuda were more than likely lost to him, swept away by the river when he first fell in. He had nothing to protect himself from that monster.

The kappa noticed Ryoma return from the shed wielding a shiny farming hoe as a weapon. “Alright,” he yelled, “prepare to die, demon!” It was an empty threat, of course, as the samurai had no way of reaching the kappa and certainly wouldn’t survive in the water against its swift swimming capabilities. Yet, he stood his ground with a mighty warrior’s stance, and, to his surprise, the kappa skittered back. Then, it exclaimed, “P-please, don’t hurt me! I don’t w-want to fight!”

Ryoma lowered his makeshift weapon and asked, “Did you say you’re not here to fight?” Then, he raised the hoe once again and yelled, “Don’t toy with me, demon!” The kappa moved back further, almost touching the opposite riverbank, but persisted, “I’m not! I-I have something for you.” Then, ever so slowly despite its affinity for the water, the kappa swam toward Ryoma. The samurai lifted the hoe further into the air as if to assert his intent to defend himself, yet he was admittedly curious as to what the oni planned on doing. Finally, it arrived at the water’s edge and as it breached the surface, Ryoma gasped. Within its claw-tipped, webbed grasp was his katana! The kappa bowed down on one knee, water pouring from its head, and presented the sword to the one threatening to kill it.

“This is yours, isn’t it?” The kappa asked. Ryoma was too stunned to reply. And so, the kappa continued, “I found it at the bed of the river where you fell in. Well, where you were pushed in, rather. I assumed you’d want it back when – well, if – you woke up. So, you’ll take it, right? A-and please, don’t h-hurt me with it. Or with what you’re holding; I’m sure you could use that as a weapon if you really needed to, samurai. I wouldn’t dare doubt a warrior from the imperial palace, that’s for sure.” It chuckled a little, showing Ryoma that it really didn’t mean any harm. So, without further hesitation, the samurai reclaimed his weapon.