Chapter 211: Jeanne d'Arc, Spring Wildcat
This is a world without magic. Mortal eyes see only the mundane. Even the most valiant hero will simply lose their life if stabbed in a vital area...
The bandit knew from the start that the samurai in front of him would definitely retreat for the child, as a fool who would stand up for a lower-class peasant must be full of a sense of justice.
Sure enough, just as he expected, the long sword was now blocked by the child's body and could not be quickly raised.
Meanwhile, the short dagger in his hand would pierce straight through the samurai's body.
Shhhnk!
Blood fell onto the straw-covered ground.
The bandit, consumed by savage joy, showed a twisted, insane grin and thought to himself: Once the samurai is killed, no one else will dare to stop him.
"Blame your meddling, for blocking my way, you old man! Hahahaha!!"
"That's right! I'm not wrong! This world is about the survival of the fittest! The honest are bullied by the cunning! Those who follow the rules are defeated by those who transcend them!"
"Ah, ah, once I reach the mountains where I can escape, I'll kill the child too. Perhaps I'm better suited to be a robber... I won't go back to the days of stealing fearfully. From now on, I'll be a brigand. Anyone who defies me, I'll seize their child and kill them!"
"Hey! How long are you going to keep raving?" Shirou said coldly to the self-absorbed bandit.
"What!" The bandit cried out in surprise, looking down.
The knife in his hand hadn't pierced the man's abdomen at all; it was grasped by his palm. The blood dripping was from a cut on the hand.
The only reason Shirou grabbed the small knife was that he felt it was the safest way to protect the child. The sword technique he was using seemed to be the type for direct, courageous combat, so to prevent the bandit from having another chance to harm the child, he simply grabbed the sharp weapon.
"Waaah!!" The bandit tried to pull the dagger out of the man's hand but found it was fixed as if embedded in an iron block. No matter how hard he pulled, he couldn't extract it.
The repeated, unrepentant defiance seemed to have aroused the anger of the residual consciousness in the body. Senji Muramasa himself, as a samurai from an era of warfare, was colder and more decisive in killing than Shirou.
The panicked bandit now looked up and saw Shirou's eyes, which resembled those of an Ashura.
"Eeeek, a monster!" Terrified, the bandit dared not linger for another moment, turning and running out of the woodshed.
The moment the bandit ran out, he saw farmers surrounding him with carrying poles and hoes. He tried to flee in the opposite direction but suddenly felt a sharp pain in his back and fell weakly to the ground.
The child dressed as a samurai stepped forward and examined the motionless man, finding a deep wound sliced into his back, which had pierced a vital internal organ, instantly killing him.
"Honestly, I told you to give up. There was no way you could win against me. This chaotic world, has it forced even a cowardly, solitary thief to go mad and become a desperate criminal..." Shirou said helplessly, as the Muramasa in his hand, with its silver-white blade bearing unique patterns, had a red blood bead clinging to its tip.
Shirou lightly flicked the famous sword 'Muramasa' that he had forged. The bloody splash scattered onto the ground, and the blade returned to being as clean as when it was first drawn, seemingly glowing faintly in the dim woodshed.
Perhaps because the sword was incredibly sharp, despite having just cut a person, the blade showed no stain.
This is neither a cursed blade nor a divine artifact; it is a failed work. As a killing tool, it is indeed first-rate. But for him, it is far from enough, just as now, he killed a thief to help a village elder save a child.
Amidst the tearful gratitude and profuse thanks of the villagers, and the cries of the child and his mother, Shirou sheathed the sword. After the peasants helped him change back into his samurai attire, he nodded lightly to the crowd. Without another word, he turned and walked toward the small town.
Excluding the family, who were joyful at the rescue of their only descendant, the peasants and travelers behind him all stared blankly at his retreating back.
They could not understand why this samurai acted or what thoughts he harbored to help the peasants.
He had gone to great lengths, wearing the undignified clothes of a lower-class peasant, even injuring one of his hands to save the child, yet he asked for no reward and simply turned and left.
Though they could not comprehend it, they felt that his retreating figure seemed grand and towering.
However, when faced with incomprehensible things, people often attribute it to abnormality, taking the experiences gained from their limited knowledge as the natural order.
"Break it up, break it up. The thief is dead, anyway. How lucky, right, Abe? To have met a meddling samurai who didn't even ask for money." The peasants joked, shouldering their hoes and belongings as they left.
"Bring out the sake you've been hiding tonight. We should all celebrate properly."
But not everyone failed to notice something in this event. It is precisely such rare, exceptional beings who are most needed in this world.
For example, a young samurai who had just left home, still holding hope for the world and yearning for justice.
"That adult is truly remarkable. I must follow him. That is a real samurai, the virtuous and just samurai of my ideals!"
For example, a person in despair, a victim looking for a champion of justice.
The four outsiders who passed by here exchanged glances, seeing surprise on each other's trembling faces, and hope in their eyes.
"We finally found a samurai willing to help us and who has the ability!"
"The village is saved!"
"Our village is saved."
In addition, on the thatched roof of a nearby house further away, sat a black-haired, red-eyed girl wearing a golden Hinowa-kabuto (sun-ring helmet). She watched the skilled samurai's retreating figure with interest, smiling, and then, in the next moment, she vanished.
"Please accept me as your disciple!" At that moment, a black-haired boy ran up and bowed to Shirou.
Shirou looked at the somehow familiar samurai boy and shook his head.
"I am not a great samurai. Subduing a thief like that is something any samurai who has been to battle a few times can easily do."
"Go back. Right now, I'm just a mere rōnin with no fixed abode. I have no wealth, no fame, just the name of a samurai, yet I haven't managed to save anyone or protect any land. The only thing I do, besides smithing, is search for a solution to this chaotic cycle due to a delusion I can't shake off. Nothing good will come from following me," Shirou said plainly to the boy as he sheathed the Muramasa.
"No! The samurai I admire is exactly like you. You don't fight for a salary or status, but you protect and help the weak for the sake of the convictions in your heart. Only such a person is a true samurai!" the samurai boy insisted.
"Please, you must accept me as your disciple. I am born of the Minamoto clan, my name is Yoshitsune, and my childhood name is Ushiwakamaru. Actually, I have another surname, Yukinoshita, in another family," the samurai boy said respectfully, bowing.
"Yuki... Yukinoshita?!" Shirou examined the samurai boy, who was only twelve or thirteen years old, closely. No... upon closer look, it was a samurai loli. Could it really be Yukinoshita in her childhood?
"Yukino?" Shirou tried asking.
"Eh? Why does Master know the name that the people in my other family call me? Is this a raccoon dog's magic?" Yukinoshita asked with shining, worshipping eyes.
"Seriously?" Shirou exclaimed.
After some clarification, Shirou finally understood. This child seemed to be in a similar state to him, but she was the external human party. However, it wasn't the high school student Yukinoshita Yukino, but an elementary school student?!
"Master! Please accept me as your disciple! I have made up my mind to follow you," the little samurai loli begged. She currently looked like a combination of the young Yukino and a physically de-aged Ushiwakamaru, so for short, let's call her Young Yukino.
"No, I won't accept you as a disciple, but... meeting here can be considered fate for the time being. If you want to learn something, then follow along," Shirou said.
"Yes!" Young Yukino happily agreed, seeing that her Master had relented.
"In any case, it's almost evening now. Let's find a place to stay first," Shirou said.
"Yes!" Young Yukino agreed.
The four peasants also followed from a distance. Finally, seeing Shirou about to enter an inn, they hurriedly ran to catch up.
Facing a samurai who held the power of life and death over peasants, they dared not be disrespectful. They rushed forward, immediately prostrating themselves on the ground and kneeling respectfully.
"Do you need something? Stand up and speak," Shirou asked the four men kneeling on the ground. Judging by their travel-worn appearance, they had clearly endured hardships along the way.
The peasants merely raised their heads but remained kneeling, speaking: "Lord Samurai! Please have mercy and save us!
Bandits have discovered our village and plan to seize our grain during the autumn harvest. If the grain is stolen, even if we don't starve to death, we will be seized by the authorities and enslaved for being unable to pay taxes."
"Master, let's help them," Young Yukino said, full of a sense of justice and fighting spirit.
"Bandits, huh... In what way do you want me to help you?" Shirou frowned and looked at the four, asking.
"Our village wishes to hire a samurai to help us defeat the bandits! As payment, we will offer all the rice that our households eat, guaranteeing that the Lord Samurai can eat white rice every meal during the period of employment!" the leading peasant, a man in his thirties, shouted respectfully.
"How many bandits are there? And how many able-bodied men are in your village?" Shirou asked.
"There are forty bandits, and seventy working men in the village," the peasant replied.
"Master, with forty bandits, we can train the peasants to fight using sharpened bamboo sticks," Young Yukino said eagerly.
"Forty people, huh... Is your village accessible from all four sides?" Shirou asked.
"Yes, two sides are flat ground, one side connects to the back mountain, and one side has a bridge built over a small river," the peasant agreed.
"Then we need people defending all four sides. How many samurai can you afford to hire at most?" Shirou stopped the girl and asked again.
"Four..." the peasant answered softly.
"It's not enough. Forty bandits, four entrances and exits, you'd need at least eight... no... seven samurai," Shirou said gravely, looking at the pale, malnourished peasants on the brink of collapse.
"What should we do..." The peasants looked at each other, distressed.
"Seven! We can afford seven! If everyone eats only millet and no rice, our village can support seven people," the leading peasant calculated, then shouted desperately.
"I see. Is that truly all you can offer?" Shirou confirmed again.
"Yes... this is all we peasants can offer," the peasant bowed his head again, kneeling.
They knew nothing but farming. They had no other recourse.
They looked at Shirou as if clutching at the last straw.
"Alright, then, let's try. First, we need to gather capable samurai willing to take this job," Shirou mused, then nodded in agreement.
"That's wonderful! I knew you would agree, Master!" Young Yukino said happily, looking at the man she admired.
"Thank you, Lord Samurai!" The peasants bowed deeply.
"In any case, let's go to the place you're staying first," Shirou said to the peasants.
When he heard that the bandits intended to seize all the grain, leaving the peasants no way to survive, Shirou decided that since he had heard of the situation, he would involve himself in this matter.
But this is a world of samurai, a place where true swords decide the outcome. Even a hero or a champion could lose their life to a single stray arrow. If he accepted this commission but failed to lead the peasants to victory, the result would only be the slaughter of the entire village by the bandits. He could not afford to be reckless.
However, since he had agreed, he could only do his utmost.
Just as Shirou and Young Yukino were led by the peasants to a wooden hut.
He felt a moment of dizziness, and a sound seemed to reach his ears, pulling the young man out of the dream world.
"Hey... Onii-chan, hey, Onii-chan, wake up!"
Shirou was shaken awake and opened his eyes to see his sister's face.
"Onii-chan, it's time to make dinner! You promised that as long as you're home this vacation, cooking is up to you~! Artoria-nee and Mashiro-nee are both looking forward to your performance, so do a good job~!" Komachi said, giving him a thumbs-up and a suggestive smile after seeing her brother wake up.
"Yes, yes. You're the one who wants to eat well, so why drag others into it?" Shirou retorted.
"Hehe, but I'll cheer for you, Onii-chan. This feeling is absolutely genuine," Komachi said, smiling.
"I don't need that kind of cheering," Shirou said helplessly.
And so, Shirou followed Komachi downstairs.
.
.
.
Meanwhile, on a remote island in Okinawa, Yukinoshita, who had fallen asleep on a lounge chair by the heated pool in the hotel, was woken up by Yuigahama shaking her.
"Yukino? Why are you sleeping here? You'll catch a cold. Do you feel unwell anywhere?" Yuigahama asked, looking at her friend with concern.
"I'm fine. I just feel like I had a dream I had a long time ago," Yukinoshita Yukino said, sitting up from the lounge chair. She was surprised that she had fallen asleep here, holding a book. It
was quite a lapse in composure. However, the scenes from the dream still lingered in her mind, and it didn't seem like a bad thing.
"Eh? What kind of dream? Tell me, tell me." Yuigahama, her curiosity piqued, smiled and hugged her, asking.
Yukinoshita Yukino recalled and said, "Hmm... I remember now. It was a very strange dream I had when I was little... It had a hero gathering other samurai to defeat a demon lord..."
Of course, she wouldn't mention that the hero she was moved by and admired looked very similar to a certain person, as if he were that person grown up.
Could it be that she had met the young man when she was very young? She felt a sense of being chosen by fate.
"Eh... a samurai? Did you like things like that when you were little, Yukino? But with a demon lord, it must be a childhood dream. That's cute," Yuigahama said, smiling, but she seemed to have lost interest in probing further. Her servant, although somewhat related to samurai, were either enemies or had very complicated relationships.
As a modern high school girl, she really wasn't interested in such things.
Of course, if a favorite idol or celebrity starred in a historical drama, she might watch a few episodes, but once the celebrity died off in the show, she lost the desire to continue watching.
"Yuigahama, let's go out now," Yukinoshita said, standing up.
"Mm, that's right. It's about time we called everyone and went looking for something delicious," Yuigahama said with a bright smile. As expected, food interested her more.
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In the living room of the young man's house, Artoria was already sitting properly, waiting for dinner to be served.
Sitting beside the girl was Mashiro, who, accompanied by Artoria, had already met with her editor and returned home. She was sitting on the sofa, holding her knees, looking at something on a tablet computer.
Judging from her expression, she didn't seem particularly happy or disappointed. Although her expressions were usually not very rich, it was indeed impossible to tell anything from her look.
"Mashiro, how is the manga progressing?" Shirou chose to ask the girl.
"It wasn't accepted, but the editor-san gave me a lot of suggestions, telling me to work harder on the plot. So, next, I want to try challenging a romance-themed manga," Mashiro replied seriously, her eyes shining when she talked about manga.
"A romance manga? Then good luck. If there's anything I can help you with, just ask; don't be shy," Shirou nodded. He didn't have much experience with that genre. If it were a battle manga, he could offer some advice, like recommending that she draw a male protagonist using black and white twin blades—that would definitely be a hit.
It seemed he could only provide support for the girl in terms of food. He would make Mashiro a late-night snack when he cooked dinner.
"Mm, I know. Thank you, Shirou," Mashiro thanked him. In fact, she was not good at fictional creation, so she planned to draw inspiration from her surroundings. Something like the gentle, beautiful girl Shirouko, who is skilled at cooking, living together with several handsome boys of distinct personalities.
Just then, the doorbell rang.
"Yes, yes, coming," Komachi prepared to open the door.
"Ah, Komachi, let me get it," Artoria stood up and said to the girl.
"Oh, then I'll leave it to you," Komachi was happy to let her, and also approved of the young woman, who didn't look much older than herself, having a chance to show initiative.
Artoria walked to the door because she sensed a familiar presence.
Outside the door, the silver-haired girl waited for the person inside to come. She suddenly felt a little nervous. The moment she thought about seeing the young man and entering his house, she didn't know what expression to wear.
"Ah!" Jeanne d'Arc cried out in surprise when she saw the familiar cold face open the door.
"Hoo-ho. Which bush or mud pit did you crawl into? You look utterly disheveled..." Artoria asked, sizing up the silver-haired girl with a mocking tone.
"Wh-why... are you the one opening the door? You should be staying in Britain, being a maid," Jeanne d'Arc shouted angrily.
"Want to know why I'm opening the door?" Artoria asked.
"What? Who would be interested in a cold-blooded king like you! But if you're going to say it, go ahead and tell me," Jeanne d'Arc said, crossing her arms.
"That's because... you came to the wrong place," Artoria said haughtily, giving the silver-haired girl a glance, drawing out her voice, and then, with a cold, proud smile, she slammed the door shut.
"..." Jeanne d'Arc was stunned for a moment, blocked outside the door.
"Cold-blooded woman! You bastard, open the door! I'm looking for Shirou~! Shirou~!" After a few seconds, Jeanne d'Arc finally reacted, banging on the door and shouting loudly.
Jeanne d'Arc had gotten lost in the forest, stumbling and rushing about. She somehow climbed a mountain, thinking that rushing out of the mountain path would surely lead her to a road, but she found that beyond the mountain were still more mountains. Finally, Da Vinci, who had finished her work at Chaldea, managed to contact Jeanne d'Arc.
Following Da Vinci's directions, Jeanne d'Arc walked down the mountain, exited the confusing forest, and finally arrived in Chiba. When she found Shirou's house, her heart was filled with joy, thinking she could finally see Shirou, eat a hot meal made by him, and get some rest.
Yet, the one who appeared before her was that cold-blooded woman! And she was locked out.
Meanwhile, Artoria returned to the living room.
"Who was that person outside? It sounded like someone was shouting?" the young man asked, walking out of the kitchen, carrying dishes to the table.
"Nothing, just a wildcat, slightly noisy because spring has arrived, fighting outside," Artoria said with a cold laugh.
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