Going through the woods, Ichiro briefly wondered if they were lost. His vision was hardly the best, and he was hardly well coordinated in such things. It was ironic to some degree, the fact that he felt so close to nature while in practice going through it so clumsily. Branches snapped loudly underfoot, at some point he almost twisted his ankle in a rabbit’s burrow. 

Finally, his sister spoke. The lad took a deep breath, drumming his fingers on his thigh. Indeed, what were they going to do? “We will do as father commanded.” he said, not even realizing in the moment that he had just told his sister these same words mere moments ago. As he stared into the meaningless distance, he realized more was expected of him. He had not really done his duty.

“We will do as father commanded.” he repeated a third time, but now there would be at least some elaboration. “We will find allies for this cause. Those that stand against these villains of the Oda. We will obtain coin to bring Ashigaru and Ronin unnumbered to our side. We will convince people across the land that our cause is just, that for every farmer and craftsman his interest is to stand with their Daimyos to in turn stand with us. Every man with a blade that we see, we will convince or coerce into serving this cause. Failing that, he’d be an enemy we’ll be rid of.” All that Ichiro was holding in the moment, he dropped. The young man’s hands went to those of his sister, holding them tightly as if he was terrified that the wind were to take her away if he didn’t. “Natsumi. Father will be avenged. Every man that did him and our Lord harm will be destroyed. I cannot yet create a complete vision, I do not see every step. But we will move. We will spend every one of our breaths to live by his last words.” even as the wind struck his face, he didn’t blink or even produce a single tear. His eyes reddened as cold streaks of air stung the orbs at high speed, but his eyelids didn’t move an inch. This seemed emotionless and distant at the same time that it seemed passionate, defiant and spiritual. Human expressions that seemed contradictory if they couldn’t be observed at the same time in the young man’s visage. 

“It will be difficult. Perhaps we will both die in the process, and painfully so. Perhaps we will fail. But you are strong, my sister. Very strong. Strong enough we haven’t had the chance to quantify it yet.” He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. Even as his eyes were obscured by eyelids, a smile came across Ichiro as if he was under the euphoric effect of some sort of substance. “For every man that stands against us, a suffering unique to him will be brought forth. One day the Oda will fall. Maybe not in our lifetimes, but we will have credit for the demon’s destruction nonetheless. In our dying breaths, we will be proud.”

Finally he opened his eyes, the grin not escaping him. He laughed, as if the most recent event they shared was some performance art rather than the death of their beloved father. “I won’t pretend to know the future, Natsumi. But I know you and me. Imperfectly, but enough to be certain our foe will suffer for every crime against us.” Another deep breath came across the young man. “Not all in this land are duplicitious. We have friends yet to call upon. Come!” Ichiro marched with a cheery pep in his stride. “We will walk until we can no longer, then we will rest until we can move once more.” Suddenly however, he stopped and turned to Natsumi. He looked at once embarrassed and proud. In both hands he extended their father’s katana, his cheeks reddening slightly. “But first, take this. If we are attacked by pursuers, you will need it. And you were always more wisened with this blade than I. The wakizashi and tanto, those are my arms. But this… I am confident if we are attacked, you will bring down a foe with every swipe. I demand you not fail me, and I know you won’t fail this demand.” Another heavy breath came across Ichiro as if he was trying to cram hours of meditation into mere heartbeats. “There are things you can do much better than I can. If I am to carry out father’s will, I will need you at your full capacity. I trust you will be ready.” She needn’t even respond, his mention that he trusted her was more than mere rhetoric.

“Let us go. Our work carries on.” He looked at the sky, his lips moving as he consulted memory to navigate. “Ise is that way.” And that was that, as he began the slow march to where the siblings could hopefully find respite and friends.