“Oh, it looks...it looks... Okay no, it doesn’t look that great on you.” After a bit of hesitation, Old Gon finally gave me his honest opinion.
I was currently wearing a traditional kimono used by the people in Fusou, rather than my ordinary clothes. It looked to me like the traditional summer clothing of Japan. The shorter sleeves and legs gave it great ventilation, and together with the hemp fabric made it quite cool. It was the kind of clothing that made things as simple as napping on a tatami floor or sitting on the porch and watching the moon at night look fun.
Five days had passed since I’d started staying at Old Gon’s house. Or rather, his dojo. My conversation with Mizuyo wasn’t one I’d be able to finish in a day or two. When I asked if I could come back to talk with her again, Old Gon was quick to insist:
“Don’t be dumb, just stay here. We’ve got that empty guest room anyway. But in exchange, you’ll have to spend some time drinking with me too.”
And so, I ended up staying here.
It seemed my clothing looked quite hot and stuffy to a native of Fusou. The day before, he had told me I should wear the local clothing while I was in Fusou and gave me these. I had worn similar things while living at Kaeha’s dojo, so I was already a little familiar with them.
Unfortunately, it seemed they didn’t suit me very well. But as long as I was in the dojo, it didn’t really matter how they looked on me, and they were comfortable enough that I was happy to wear them regardless. If I had to go out, I could just put a bit more thought into my outfit.
“You’ve really taken a liking to Mizuyo’s stories, huh?” Old Gon asked me out of the blue, while practicing with a staff out in the courtyard.
Of course—her stories were quite intriguing. She was well learned, her delivery was careful and polite, and she had a beautiful voice. It would be exhausting for her to have to talk at great length, so I only bothered her at night when it was cooler. Thanks to her efforts, I was starting to get a vague picture of how the kingdom of Fusou had come together. During the day, I spent my time practicing together with Old Gon or visiting the dojos around town in search of clues about the Yosogi School, but I really looked forward to nighttime the most.
“I see. Glad to hear it. Then since you’re my guest and all, let me tell you an interesting story of my own.”
With a mischievous grin, Old Gon leaned his staff against the wall and sat down on the edge of the porch. My curiosity piqued, I took a seat beside him.
“This dojo probably seems like it’ll let anyone in, right? I guess if you’ve been looking around, most of the dojos in Outo probably seem that way.”
That was true. Of all the dojos I had visited, none gave the impression of trying to keep themselves exclusive. I figured that was because they were desperate to raise as many strong warriors as possible to fight against the oni.
“The old schools of Fusou weren’t always like that, though. Before the war with the oni started, humans and skyfolk sometimes fought, but mostly there were wars between the human kingdoms.”
It was a story from long, long before he had been born. He spoke as if recounting an old memory, though it was of a time he had never witnessed. I listened quietly.
“But Fusou was much smaller than the mainland. Even a war between countries was a pretty small conflict. A battle between a few dozen or a few hundred people was enough to call it a war.”
I was starting to get the picture Old Gon was trying to paint for me. He was probably trying to tell me something about the Yosogi School.
“Martial arts schools held enough sway back then that they could influence the outcomes of those wars. Great care was taken to ensure that not a single technique from the schools was made known to foreign enemies. Of course, that was all before the oni showed up and the human kingdoms united.”
The smaller the scale of the conflicts, the more a single individual’s prowess could influence the result. Keeping one’s skills a secret was only natural in such a situation. In that case...
Old Gon continued. “Basically, many of the schools in Fusou that were wiped out took their secrets to the grave with them. I know a good deal about every martial arts school in Fusou, be it swordsmanship, spearmanship, or unarmed combat. Among all of those, I’ve never heard of any Yosogi school, nor seen any school with techniques like the ones you showed me,” he declared.
The ancestor school of the Yosogi style was gone. Well, it was a possibility I had always considered, and I had started to suspect that was the case after my time visiting the dojos around town. But having the reality of it set before me was still depressing.
Seeing me deflate, Old Gon’s grin only grew more mischievous. “I’ve never heard of any school with the Yosogi name, that is. I have heard the name somewhere else, though I have no idea if it’s related to what you’re looking for.”
I couldn’t help but scowl at the teasing introduction he was giving me, even though I knew my expression was only a reward for a prankster like him.
“Ah ha ha, sorry, sorry. Do you want to hear about it, then? A story from before Fusou was united, of a woman who fought tooth and nail against the oni, Yuzuriha Yosogi. This is the actual story I wanted to tell you.”
Putting a hand to his chest, Old Gon started speaking in a stronger voice than before. The story of a single swordswoman, unknown to most in history.