The sun was high above Nanmuko village, burning down on the paddy fields that stretched on both sides of the dusty road.
Kenta and Kaede walked slowly along the path, their clothes sticking to their skin from the heat. The smell of mud and ripe crops filled the air.
Kaede looked at the fields and smiled faintly.
"This time our farmers worked hard like hell," he said.
"Just look at those crops strong and full. It's a good harvest."
Kenta was silent, lost in his own thoughts.
"Yeah," he replied quietly.
Kaede's smile faded. His hand tightened into a fist.
"All that gold we grew will go straight to the king," he muttered.
"And in return, these soldiers hand us worn-out ration grains. It's not fair."
Kenta didn't answer. His eyes were fixed on the road ahead.
"Brother Kenta!" Kaede called out. "Kenta! Are you even listening?"
"Yeah, yeah… what happened?" Kenta said, snapping out of his thoughts.
Kaede frowned. "You're lost somewhere. What's going on in your head?"
Kenta took a deep breath.
"When we were heading to Sensei Masanori's house this morning, I went ahead of you all.
Before I reached the door, there was a man there was a young man. He spoke to Sensei. I didn't hear much, but something about him felt… off."
Kaede thought for a moment.
"Maybe he's a relative. Someone from another village coming to meet Sensei or Hana," he said. "But that's strange.
No one's allowed to cross villages these days. The borders are full of guards.
I even heard there's a new rebel group forming attacking soldiers and stirring trouble. That's why the borders are locked down."
Kenta nodded slowly. "I don't know who he was, but my heart says he's not an ordinary man. There's something about him… maybe a warrior."
Kaede shrugged. "Forget it for now. If we reach late, they'll finish giving the rations.
Not a single grain will be left! Come on, let's run!"
They broke into a jog down the dusty road. Ahead, a crowd had already gathered.
Soldiers stood behind wooden carts, handing out small sacks of ration to the villagers waiting in a long line.
The village stirred at dawn. A soft murmur spread through the streets as people gathered along the road, waiting for the lord's procession. From far away came the rhythmic chant — "Shita ni, shita ni!" — calling everyone to bow their heads in respect.
First came the foot soldiers, stern and silent, their steps steady and their swords gleaming at their sides.
Their armor caught the early light, neat and precise, as if not a single detail dared to be out of place.
Behind them, banner-bearers lifted tall, colorful flags that fluttered in the wind, each marked with the clan's emblem a two-headed bird.
Then came the samurai. They marched in perfect formation, faces hidden under wide, woven hats.
There was something about their calm, controlled movements that demanded respect.
At the center, retainers carried the lacquered palanquin in which the daimyo sat, shielded by silk curtains.
Kenta and Kaede also bowed down, copying the other villagers.
It was the first time they had seen the daimyo himself he had never come to Nanmuko before, as he had no particular reason to visit such a poor village.
He always left Nanmuko's matters to his ministers and trusted samurai.