A Ghost? What Ghost?

“Jin… We need to have a serious talk.” Shimura had spent a long time preparing for this conversation. The vague doubts planted in his heart by Khotun Khan had flourished wildly, generously fertilized by his nephew’s inappropriately cheerful expression and the foxes and that peasant girl, Yuna, constantly hovering around him. “Yes, Uncle?” the last surviving member of Clan Sakai responded with puppy-like eagerness, his tone vaguely reminding Shimura of one of the palace servants. Pretty, diligent, but so very, very stupid… “Terrible rumors are spreading,” the jitō began after clearing his throat. Sakai nodded so vigorously that the topknot at the back of his head swayed back and forth. “They are!” he confirmed. “What are the rumors about?” Shimura coughed. “About the Ghost, Jin.” “Ah, the Ghost…” Jin replied thoughtfully. They fell silent — jitō Shimura trapped in painful uncertainty, Sakai still wearing the same foolish expression. “And what Ghost would that be?” “The peasants believe that some samurai survived the battle at Komoda Beach and is now helping them,” Shimura hinted. “Well, peasants will believe just about anything,” Jin said with a shrug. “One woman was absolutely convinced kappas had dragged off her father — but it was just bandits. Another believed the spirits of slain samurai haunted the forest, but those were bandits again… In Yarikawa they even believe in a Spirit of Vengeance — but that was just a surviving samurai’s daughter… And don’t even get me started on the Spirit of Vengeance guarding Uchitsune’s legendary bow!” “Is there something you want to tell me?” Shimura resorted to a tactic that had worked since Jin’s childhood. Jin paused thoughtfully, picking at a hole in the knee of his plain gray hakama. “Well, if someone told you I suggested handing out dango to the peasants before battle to improve morale, don’t believe them. I barely have enough for myself…” “Jin!” Shimura finally barked, losing his patience. “Enough fooling around! Where is your seriousness?! Your discipline?!” Jin immediately made his face go completely blank, obediently folded his hands on his knees, and stared intently at the floor in front of him. His uncle rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly. “You do understand that killing an enemy from behind is dishonorable? It insults a samurai’s honor and brings him shame.” Jin began nodding again with the same dutifully serious expression on his face. “Of course, Uncle. You spent my entire childhood teaching me that.” “And that the Ghost behaves dishonorably. He strikes enemies from behind, and Khotun Khan is convinced that it’s you.” “Uncle, who do you trust more — me, or that brazen invader?!” Jin protested, staring at his uncle with devoted sincerity. And Shimura almost believed him. Almost. The little foxes that had somehow appeared in his nephew’s eyes were practically dancing obscene little dances, swishing their tails and sticking their tongues out at him. “And what do you have to say about the fact that yesterday, in the middle of the attack, you suddenly disappeared somewhere during the battle?” “Ah, well, all sorts of things happen in battle,” Jin wrinkled his nose as if his cheek had started itching, but he didn’t dare raise a hand to scratch it. In that moment, his face looked completely foxlike. “I was probably just fighting on the other side of the field from you, Uncle, so you didn’t see me.” “And the hwacha that suddenly started firing at the Mongols all by itself?!” “They say kumis contains alcohol, and those sake barrels were already half-empty… Alcohol is harmful to one’s health, Uncle. And to one’s aim. I remember once, in my youth, I decided to try sake for the first time, and wouldn’t you know it, I had archery practice right afterward… Remember, Uncle?” Shimura felt his left eye begin to twitch. The problem was that the jitō was no longer certain the Ghost even truly existed. Perhaps these really were just rumors, or perhaps someone from the mountain clans had decided to interfere… Besides, Shimura did not want to believe that his own nephew could be the Ghost. Striking an enemy from behind was unforgivable for a samurai — a sin that could only be redeemed through seppuku. And even then, only if the shōgun showed mercy and allowed the family to cleanse its shame in at least that way. And overall, the entire conversation reminded the lord of a discussion between a blind man and a deaf one. Or an intelligent man and a fool. Or an intelligent man and someone even more intelligent, who for some reason insisted on pretending to be a complete idiot. Though the sake incident truly had been rather amusing. Fifteen-year-old Jin had looked utterly ridiculous, crossing both eyes and stubbornly wrestling with a shortbow while Shimura had nearly died laughing internally, watching his nephew’s futile attempts to line up a target that was obviously splitting into two before his eyes. But drunken Mongols, completely wasted, accurately shooting their own men?! Was Jin mocking him or taking him for a fool?! Or… Shimura went cold. Could it be that the injury Jin had suffered at Komoda had not passed without consequence, and the brilliant boy — brilliant to the point of genius — would remain a giggling idiot for the rest of his life? Shimura slowly inhaled and exhaled. “Very well. Then what about the Mongol camp covered in corpses showing every sign of poisoning?” Jin lifted his head, glanced at the ceiling as though searching for inspiration for yet another haiku, and replied — indeed — in verse: “Dangerous are forests; Eat not unfamiliar berries, Lest poison claim you.” “Jin, do you understand the situation you’re in?!” “What situation?” “You were gone from camp the entire night yesterday. And by morning we storm the enemy camp only to find every Mongol poisoned! Where were you?!” “Taking a walk outside the camp, breathing fresh air, enjoying the moonlight!” “The truth, Jin, tell me the truth!” Shimura was already close to grabbing him by the collar and shaking him like a doll. Jin lowered his head and carefully blushed like a young maiden. “Forgive me, Uncle. I knew you wouldn’t approve, but Yuna… She… And I… Well, we were together last night.” Shimura sank back onto his cushion in relief, suddenly aware of the unpleasant dampness on his back. So he had merely been sleeping with a peasant girl?! Not entirely proper — but in the end, every man was permitted such weaknesses. So that was why his nephew had been acting so strangely. He feared appearing frivolous before the man who would one day become his father. Really, indulging in lust with some nameless peasant girl while the fate of Tsushima itself hung in the balance… But at least it was not a strike from behind. “A samurai should not entangle himself with a peasant girl, but… I understand your youth.” “Thank you, Uncle!” Jin beamed with a bright smile, bowing low to the floor. “May I go now?” “Of course, Jin. You may leave.” Shimura only came to his senses once Jin had already slipped away. But then what about the camp? Who had been cunning enough to poison every enemy in it?! There was no one left to ask — neither the peasant girl nor his nephew were anywhere in sight. And how had they vanished so quickly?!

***

“So, did he believe it?” Yuna sat down cross-legged. Jin spent a few more minutes watching his uncle through a crack in the wall — this time the conspirators’ meeting place was an old barn — then gave an amused snort and dropped down beside his companion. “Of course he did. Thanks.” “You should listen to Yuna more often — you won’t regret it,” the girl smirked slyly. “The peasants won’t betray you, even if some of them did see you as the Ghost, and as for the samurai… all of this is too much for them. They really shouldn’t know about you. But honestly… doesn’t your code forbid lying?” “I didn’t lie,” Sakai snorted. “Everything I said was the pure truth. It’s just that I said it in a way that made Uncle interpret it however he wanted. By the way, you were right — the moment I hinted that we were together, he calmed down.” “Don’t get your hopes up, Ghost.” “Wasn’t planning to, Ghost’s assistant. Anyway, bring the map over. Where’s the nearest Mongol camp? We’ll pay them a visit tonight… And hey, if you run into Uncle, don’t forget to giggle shyly and bat your eyelashes at him— Ow! What was that for?!”