A Date with Fate

Go

Diary Entry Go (5)

May 18, 1867
Fukushima, Japan

I've been working as an assassin in my past years. After my breakdown, I starved myself and hid away at an abandoned temple. Until one fateful day someone came to revive the temple that their great-grandfather maintained once. He was a kind and brave boy that helped me regain my sane mind. His uncle was an assassin, or ninja I should say, that worked for a lord. I became the best there was in killing and my unique abilities gave me an upper hand. Whoever they asked me to kill, I did it without question.
On the other hand, I can not eat normal foods. I can taste the sweet and sour of things, I'm just happy I can still enjoy my green tea. The man I work for now is laying low and has me watching the streets for anything unusual. Until someone caught my eye, a foreigner that has stirred up some trouble with some anti-foreign samurai from Numata. He was trying to sell some things among the market, not aware that some do not appreciate his kind. He took out his gun to defend himself before any of the samurai could pull out their sword and shot one in the chest, but continued to shoot out randomly in a panic before running. The other samurai followed after him when he made a run for it. The fool was asking to get killed. I followed close behind the other samurai staying close to the shadows of the crowded buildings. He was cornered, facing five samurai with their katanas drawn. I couldn't help but shake my head before cutting down each one of them. The foreigner stood in shock unaware, unable to process what had happened so fast before his eyes.
"W-Who are you?" He stuttered, with his back straight up against the wall. "Why did you help me? Are you not a samurai too?"
I glanced at him as my eyes gleamed in the afternoon light of a purple hue. I flicked the blood off my blade and then proceeded to wipe the rest off with a rag. "You caught my interest as a foreigner, you still show yourself among these people who reject foreigners. Who reject all trade from your kind." I returned my katana to its sheath, then folded my arms within my kimono sleeves.
The foreigner raised a brow at the ronin and eased a bit, stepping forward away from the wall. "I was just trying to sell a few things, get someone interested in wanting to buy my products. As in products I mean, guns." He then relaxed more and inspected his body in case of any injuries he was not aware of.
"Walk with me, I'll take you to someone who might be needing just that." And with that said we traveled to Niigata from Yokomata, where I introduced the foreigner to a Daimyo of Nagaoka. He offered his guns to him and in return instructed the samurai on how to use them. The foreigner gained a Japanese name, the right to wear swords, a residence in the castle town of Wakamatsu, and a Japanese wife.
A war was upon us, and as ordered I protected the foreigner and an Aizu official's daughter. On the front lines the foreigner coward and hid, while the daughter known as Nakano Takeko with her Naginata fought relentlessly. Her Naginata was beautiful, and perfect for having an upper hand against the Emperor's soldiers. Unfortunately I couldn't save poor Takeko, for she was shot in the chest while fighting two men at once. Her sister Yuko ran to her aid and promised that the enemy would not have her head. While I protected the foreigner, Yuko escaped from the battle.
"Hiramatsu Buhei! You spineless fool! As a samurai you must face your enemy and fight. You bring honor to defeating your enemies. No matter what or who you fight for. You fight to live." I yelled at the foreigner grabbing his attention by gripping his kimono. We stood no chance. He stood no chance as I then understood as I looked into his fear soaked eyes. So, we retreated to Hokai Temple where Yuko waited for us. There we buried Takeko under a cherry blossom tree that reminded me of my past.
"Ronin, I never got your name. I must thank you. I am in debt to you." The foreigner said before bowing to me in respect. I bowed in return and then looked back to the cherry tree.
"Do you know why the cherry blossom is so important to the Japanese?" I asked him, holding out my hand to catch a petal.
"There is a lot I don't know about this strange yet beautiful land."
"It's important because it's a symbol of Japan. Extreme beauty and quick death." A petal landed in my hand, before I blew it away and faced the man. "You are a fool. But I will follow you because I admire you. My name is Ichiko. You do not need to know of my past or anything else about me."
Buhei convinced about two dozen samurai to follow him to California and to live on a 600 acre land with him. Of course, I followed and worked under the fool. There he and his wife, Tsugonusuke and their seven year old son, lived and established a working business.