"You will cut each other’s hair, and wash."
Soroko announced, as they entered the building. They passed through the lower floor, and headed through the back rooms, until finally, they arrived inside a steaming bathhouse.
He left them to stare at the grandness of the design, with its archaic stone bricks, and worn down ledges, whilst he stepped into the next room for a few seconds, and retrieved an old razor blade.
Gengyo glanced around astutely. He did not want to allow a single opportunity of escape to pass him by, and as the old monk held out the razor towards him, he narrowed his eyes.
As soon as his fingers made their around the smooth wooden handle, he lashed out, intending to catch Soroko off guard, so they could make their escape.
But the old monk barely even blinked, nor did his bushy eyebrows twitch. He simply altered his body slightly, and allowed the blade to sail harmlessly past.
"As I said earlier, to clean yourselves, you will need to shave your heads, you need to use that blade to do so."
He spoke as if there was nothing else going on, yet Gengyo was slashing toward him with strike after strike, furiously trying to cut him open. Their swords had long since been taken from them, and this was the only opportunity he had now.
"Mm... I wonder if there’s anything else I need to say?"
Soroko mused, making minor adjustments to his arm to avoid the small blade that begged to cleave his shoulder.
"Ah, yes. One moment."
He merely turned and left, dodging Gengyo’s last strike in the process. The young man did not even bother to attack him as he retreated, for he was already sweating profusely and breathing heavily from the amount of strikes he had put out.
Kitajo watched the entire process, stunned, unable to move.
"...How?"
He asked, struggling to find the right words to express what he had just seen.
"He’s strong, that’s how."
Gengyo said bitterly, through ragged breath. They could not even take a single monk when he was left alone. What chance did they have? It was almost unfair that such monsters existed. Against every man that he had ever fought, no matter how strong, he had always been able to see even the smallest chance of victory. Yet here, he could not sense even the slightest bit of weakness.
Soroko returned a few moments later, with two sets of garments held over his arm. It seemed they would also be dressing like monks now.
"I thought you said you wanted us to fit in, not turn us into monks."
Gengyo complained, seeing whether he could outwit the monk mentally, since he did not stand a chance physically.
"That’s very much a part of fitting in, young man. Physical change can affect the mind, even just the smallest of amounts. So why would one not seek to undergo physical change first, for is that not the easiest step?"
"It defeats the purpose of introducing them to someone from the outside, does it not?"
He responded, testing the limits of his patience.
"Hoho, you really do not want to be here. It seems Momochi-sensei had you defined just right."
The old monk stated, not sparing the time to respond to his criticisms.
"Indeed, I do not. Neither of us do. It is a waste of time for all parties. So why not just let me leave? Give me a cloth, and I will wash the blood away from your steps. That’s the physical change you spoke of, is it not?"
With a bushy eyebrow raised, old Soroko took no offence at his words, and instead, he betrayed an amused chuckle, and spoke to Kitajo.
"Your master is rather difficult to handle with his words, hoho."
The two men flinched, and shared a glance.
’How did he know I was his master?’
Came their thoughts.
"Mm, but not as clever as he would like to believe. A clever tiger knows when to hide, and stalk his prey. He is merely a cub, unused to the ways of the world. A wise man would take this opportunity for what it is worth. It is a punishment, that is true. But if you do not give in to your resentment, and are able to look with both eyes open, then you might be able to see how both parties can benefit, no?"
He allowed them a moment to process his words, before he turned on his heel and left them with a single parting comment.
"But we are quite willing to inflict punishment where disobedience is present. So do as I ask, least this become more difficult for you."
It was, without doubt, a threat, but spoken in his humble old voice, it was difficult to take it as such. Yet it would be most unwise to take him lightly. He had revealed his martial skill to be worlds apart from their own. If that was the only thing he had, then defeating him might still be workable, but he had some other odd intuition about him, and Gengyo found himself unwilling to underestimate that.
"Miura..?"
Kitajo broke Gengyo out from his thoughts.
"Mm?"
"Should we not just do as he says? It’s only a haircut."
It was indeed, merely a haircut. But it was also them stating that they submit. Yet...
"Aye... It might be wise."
Despite his bitterness about the mess they had landed themselves in, he was unwilling to lash out at Kitajo, even though he found his suggestion to be rather irritating. The lad was right: it was merely a haircut. Thinking about it in any other terms would lead to more damage than it was worth.
"Do you want to go first?"
"Can do."
He sat with his legs crossed, and a frown on his face, as he allowed Kitajo to begin shaving his hair. The lad operated with the utmost care, making sure that he would not deal Gengyo any injury with the sharp edge of the razor.
’Ah, what a state indeed...’
He lamented, as they sat in silence. The only sound present was that of the razor scraping over his scalp.
’There was one thing the old monk said that was moderately wise though, recommending that I seize the opportunity for what it is worth.’
He realized, attempting to set his emotion on the matter aside, and reorganize his goals so that his anger would not overwhelm him too quickly.
’If I demonstrate whatever the monks wish to find out, then I will be out of here more quickly. It would not matter if this trip takes a couple of weeks longer than it should – they have my horse, and I have no doubt my coin is safe. I can use this time to plan the recruitment process more thoroughly, so that when I’m out, I will be able to move more efficiently. That should be enough to make up for lost time.’
"...Ah."
Kitajo muttered as he walked in front of Gengyo, to try and spot any parts that he had missed.
"Hm?"
"You look different, Miura."
"Of course – anyone would after they lost their hair. But it’ll grow back, eh?"
"Hm, I don’t know, I think it sort of suits you."
"Yeah, yeah. Hurry up and let me do yours, we’ll see who suits in then."
Came his reply, as he stood up, and pried the razor from Kitajo’s grasp.
"But Miura – there are still parts that need doing..."
He protested as he was forced to sit down.
"Not bothered."
Gengyo responded, wielding the razor as he began chopping at the boy’s long hair. It was a shame to see it fall to the floor in such clumps. But he supposed it was just as he said: it would grow back.
He made a point not to act too despondently in front of Kitajo. He was his leader, and it would not do for his own worry to be reflected back onto his subordinate, for he would have need of him later.
It was his job to come up with a plan, and get them out – in the meantime, he would simply act as though the current events did not bother him.
"Hm, I reckon you suit it more than me."
He decided, looking at the freshly shaven Kitajo, who squirmed under his gaze as though n.a.k.e.d.
"Guh... This is the worst."
He complained, unable to take his hands off his head, as he rued the parting of his soft hair, and was instead forced to put up with his cold scalp.
"Nah, it could be a lot worse. After we’ve had a bath, we’ll have to put on those monk robes. Imagine if Rokkaku or father saw us like this? We’d never hear the end of it."
Kitajo could not help but chuckle at such an image – it was true enough, those two would tease them until they tongues fell out. At the mention of a bath, he moved forward to test the water.
"Oh... It’s warm."
There was steam coming off it’s surface, but somehow he had not pictured the monks to be people of warm baths. He figured they would be taking showers under an icy cold waterfall instead.
"Decent."
Gengyo said approvingly, as he removed his blood stained kimono and jumped in. It was a pleasant sensation indeed, and he rather enjoyed it, but still he could not help sigh once more. He was truly attempting to be upbeat, but as soon as he reminded themselves of the situation they were in, he had difficulty maintaining that same positiveness.
Kitajo joined him a moment later.
"How come the monks are so strong?"
He wondered. Strength in itself was not too difficult to understand, but their strength was otherworldly – being the mortals that they were, they could not even touch them.
"Who knows. Perhaps we’ll find out, since we’re being forced to stay here a while."
Kitajo’s eyes brightened at that, as though he had just discovered a new opportunity.
"Ah... That’s true. Yup, let’s try and get stronger whilst we’re here!"
Gengyo had to physically restrain himself from shaking his head.
’If only I could be that positive...’
He mused. The lad had only needed to be presented with the very end of a rope, and he had clung to it with full force, believing that to be his new purpose. Yet he found himself unable to make such a leap. The worst thing in his eyes was not being in control of his own destiny. There was nothing he could do to assert any kind of hold over the powerful monks. Even if he caused a good amount of chaos – as he had become so accustomed to – he doubted they would even react.
"Enjoying yourselves, are we?"
Soroko spoke up suddenly from behind, causing them to flinch. It was massively disconcerting to have the old man sneak up on them, without even the slightest warning.
"There are many things I would rather be doing."
Came Gengyo’s icy response, as he turned to meet the old man’s gaze.
"And many things you would rather not be doing, I expect. Mm... Short hair is a good look for you."
Kitajo nodded towards Gengyo, as if to say: "I told you so."
He wasn’t sure whether the monk had chosen to say that on purpose merely to irritate him, but whatever his objective, it had worked. Still, he did not want to give him the satisfaction, and merely turned away.
Soroko smiled at his response.
’It’s quite the interesting individuals that you’ve found Momochi. Quite the interesting ones indeed.’
He mused, as he watched them.
’They’re certainly strong for such impure men. But the path that they walk is a dark one, and there are few who are able to tell just how long it can continue. In your case, boys, I expect not too long.’
The source of this c𝐨ntent is freewe(b)nov𝒆l