As they went towards their destination, Ichiro tried briefly to raise their spirits at a few points. He'd try to honour the memory of their father, recounting the stories the man had told him, his little lessons in life to their beloved children. Humourous moments they shared, common triumphs, things that would help Natsumi see the memory of the fallen parent with joy, not grief. Yet it almost felt that the universe - or rather the delusions of the world - were out to spite them. He tried to tell the story of how father tried to teach Ichiro patience by showing that tea tasted better when it had the time for the water to properly absorb the flavours, only for the boy to push his luck and wait several days to try get a more flavourful tea. The punchline of Ichiro falling over sick and throwing up in front of fellow noblemen from the time-fouled beverage could not be delivered, as the hooves of kibatai thundered behind them. He tried to tell the story of the first time that Ichiro had heard father speak of the trials of life making a man stronger if they were surpassed, yet he was unable to finish the story with recounting how Masato saved his son from being bitten by a snake when the adolescent had decided to harden himself this way. Once more the Kiba arrived. Yet again they interrupted the brother's words. The third time the Ki shut him up was when he recounted the time the young Ichiro tried to show he didn't need lessons in martial skill when he used the bulk and strength the youth had already developed in his teenage years to push his over down to the ground with a strike of his shoulder. The moral of the story couldn't be delivered. He was unable to recount how as he was gloating, the young yet ever so large boy had his feet swept out from under him to land on the ground.

Finally, Ichiro turned a little dour from this. He was left looking like a fool, an arrogant and insolent child because he couldn't deliver the latter segment of every tale he tried to recount. It was as if he was being taunted by fate or destiny, even though such things didn't seem particularly weighty to him. As if the Oda troops knew to shut him up before he could commemorate the man that Ichiro and Natsumi both mourned. There was something to learn there, though he struggled to tell what. He would have to tihnk on it later.

As they came to Ise, Ichiro disagreed with his sister that they ought avoid the men of their would-be ally. But he didn't argue with her much on the topic. It was better to be too cautious rather than foolhardy. You could always choose to be more bold after caution. Yet, after the effects of an excess of bravery and confidence it was usually far too late to excercise vigilance. Usually by then your head was already on the floor some distance from your body. 

Going through the wild, Ichiro would shift topics going on to ramble about bits of nature. He'd identify all the plants he saw from flowers to trees to bushes, even picking a few mushrooms that he knew could be eaten without issue. After all, it would be a while before they got proper food.

But get proper food they did, along with a dose of hospitality far greater than Ichiro would have ever anticipated of a stranger of birth so lowly compared to theirs, especially since the prestige of the brother and sister would be more than visible on their trappings. Ultimately, Ichiro was very grateful that he didn't have to use the coins he had gathered at the fort they fled. 

Eventually they were brought to their destination. "Hmmm?" a noise came from Ichiro as he turned to his sister, thinking how to answer her. This place was peaceful, he could forget their quest here. He chuckled then, almost but not quite in a tone that could be considered dismissive. "It is Harumoto that is currently head of their clan, yes? I am confident he would take us in. He has studied the works of Siddartha, he knows the dangers the Oda pose. If we present our blades, our finery, our tongues and ourselves, I am sure that at worst we will be turned away. If that is to happen, then our journey merely continues. But I am certain that if we present ourselves at the gates of his castle and speak honestly the truths we know, we will at the very least get a night of safety and respite, along with more hot meals. I am sure your feet are in need of rest as much as mine. Hospitality of a lord that is honourable and at worst neutral to gain the time we need to plot another move is something I think we would both appreciate." He took a stop to sit on a rock, accidentally illustrating the point about wanting rest. He looked to the sky, again trying to get his bearings, trying to calculate in his head how far they were from the castle of the Kitabatake. Some ways to go, but much of the journey was done.