EngelReise - Chapter 4

**Chapter 3 < | > Chapter 5**

With a horrid night behind her, Tomako continues her training in the sword. Otomo willingly continues to train her, though he may not be all so supportive of this 'fool's quest' as Tomako wishes. During these days of training Tomako and Otomo become closer than ever before; likewise, interesting drama comes between the two as the ex-samurai secretly hopes to keep Tomako posted in Boshtang much longer than she is willing to accept. Relations strain and grow between the two in an inconsistent pattern throughout her training, but in the end, Tomako knows that she must decide her own path, whether Otomo likes it or not...

## Chapter Reading

== Chapter 4 – *The Undying Fire* =

It was a beautiful day in Boshtang. The sun was out, the temperature cool, and even the giant hornets were keeping to their territories. The only negative to this day was the wet ground that the rain had created the previous night. This was especially problematic for caravans and supply carriages as such vehicles could get stuck in mud or occasionally even break.

Of course, no matter how bright a day it was, Tomako was with a dark cloud of despair. Otomo recognized her situation and did what he could to improve it but couldn’t allow her situation to drag his day down as well. He felt obliged to help her prepare for a ridiculous trip from Shimua to Svatpa, but ultimately, had to care for his own interests first.

A Boshtang native struck his fists over Otomo’s merchant shack, “Seventy coins? Seventy!? It’s brown rice, not gold!”

Otomo nodded, “I’ve just lost a major supplier of goods. Less product means more demand, and more demand equals higher costs. You either work with me or go home hungry.”

“I could grow my own rice and put this money to greater use!”

A tempered brow came from the merchant, “Then go do it. Or try and find a more reasonable merchant in Boshtang. Try as you may, you will not succeed.”

The customer crossed his arms, “I will show you!” he said in a mocking tone. “I’d sooner purchase from the Swatslandic than fall for your scam.”

With this, the man left empty-handed. The former samurai sighed and turned away with a shaking head. The Angel family was one of his last hopes, for they had been bringing him a routine amount of goods to sell and for a merciful cost. They were the final string holding his merchant career together. Without the Angels to bail him out, the man would need to pray for a revolution that stops the subjugation of farmers. Even so, that still wouldn’t bring back the suppliers he now lost. There was no escaping what he considered an insane Swatslandic experiment.

By striking down farms, the farming population would grow unfavorable toward their occupiers. Without farm produce to trade, merchants, such as Otomo, would grow very resentful of the Swatslandic as well. Finally, without merchants offering cheap essentials, the common man and woman of Imperyea would also grow resentful. The Swats-Imperyean War proved that the samurai stood no chance against armored knights of Swatsland, but even so, having the entire population riot, murder, pillage, and commit other disorderly acts would wear out the Swatslandic. In other words, if Otomo could hold on a bit longer, surely, he would live to see an insurgency.

With that being said, Otomo was still in trouble. The only productive thing he felt capable of doing in this situation was helping Tomako live a better life, but due to her stubborn decision to go on a journey, he could only help by teaching her how to protect herself on what he considered to be a fool’s quest.

The time for lunch had come, a much-needed one for Otomo who had not one, not two, but three enraged customers on this day. Having temporarily closed his shack off, the man grabbed a bite and entered his cellar to check on his guest. Immense surprise came at the sounds of her panting and shifting feet.

She had been awake for about five hours, and still, Tomako practiced swings by herself. Horizontal, vertical, and diagonal swings. For hours now she had been repeating these same moves. Even more surprising was that she was now trying these attacks out while taking steps forward and back. On her own, Tomako was teaching herself how to attack with mobility.

Otomo, surprised by all of this, scratched his head and walked into the room still unnoticed by her. There was obvious exhaustion on the woman, though she refused to back down from her exercise. This was what made Otomo most concerned.

“Tomako.”

Almost immediately Tomako sheathed her sword—*EngelReise*—and looked at him with a raised chin. She offered him a respectful nod.

“I have not stopped my swinging. I’m getting better with every move I make, I can feel it.”

Otomo came closer to her, “That’s… good, but…” he grasped his waist from both sides and glared. “You are staying hydrated, yes?”

Tomako bowed, “Yes. If I am drinking too much, I will compensate you as you see fit.”

“Ooh, really?” but he came to his senses and then said, “No, no. Water is the one thing the Swatslandic haven’t made impossible to access, yet. I will not be surprised if the fools decide to one day enforce a taxation on water, such absurdity being typical of the Swatslandic at this point.”

A few more seconds of rest was all the woman would accept, for soon she unsheathed her katana and held it up with pride. “I have enhanced my expertise in the art of the sword. Let’s have another practice duel.”

Otomo snickered, “Not now, Tomako.” She lowered her katana with two frustrated brows. “Only half the work day is complete. I’ve just come to check up on you.” Then, his gaze became somewhat disturbed. “I should warn, you’re going to endure muscle pain if you continue to exert so much work.”

Even with this said from a man who once dedicated his life to the sword, Tomako brushed off his warning and continued swinging in a rare display of rudeness. The man did take offense to this dismissal but was quick to develop an interest in her form of combat. He watched for about a minute as she performed the usual pattern of swings, she, in turn, motivated herself to try harder in the presence of Otomo. He couldn’t help but smile.

“I admit, you’ve improved your accuracy and consistency.” He moved to her behind, observing from a different angle. “Your cuts are clean, fast, and straight. You’ve learned much in no time at all.”

“With all due respect,” Tomako lectured, “I wish to take leave as soon as possible. I’d very much appreciate if you could squeeze in as much training as possible.”

Otomo shrugged, “Mastering the sword isn’t a feat acquired so quickly. Even while serving in Great Lord Kiyoshi’s army, I continued to learn -”

Tomako interrupted, “Great Lord?”

A hesitant nod was given, “The Royal Army of Kushyrin, led by the Great Lord himself.”

“You served under the Great Lord of Kushyrin?” He nodded, but this only left Tomako confused. “Yesterday I was told that you served a general and led a vanguard.”

“Oh?”

“Now you tell me that you fought under the command of our island’s Great Lord?”

Otomo glanced away for a moment, “I do not recall mentioning any vanguard nor do I recall mentioning any general. I carried forth the banner of Kushyrin’s Kyoshi dynasty.”

Tomako remained skeptical but resumed swinging nonetheless. Otomo soon pocketed his hands and turned around.

“I shall return as the sun sets. Then, we will continue training.” He walked off with his hands still pocketed, but finally warned, “Cease practicing soon, or you will be far too exhausted to do any such training.”

Despite his advice, Tomako continued to swing her blade with great energy and perseverance. She respected Otomo to a great extent as a business partner, friend, mentor, and even somewhat of a father. Nevertheless, she would not allow anyone or anything to hinder her progress.

A big gulp of water from a pan was all she needed. With what strange amount of energy she still had, the woman continued to strike at the air with unchallenged enthusiasm and will. She fought on believing that the gods would keep her shoulders up, so long as she remains pious and determined.

That night brought much of the same seen on the previous night. Tomako continued her training with Otomo acting as a defender. His mood remained somewhat sour throughout their session. His agreement to train her persisted, but any actual support for her planned journey was still missing. His claim of it being a ‘fool’s quest’ did not dissuade her in the slightest.

Like before, Tomako struck Otomo in a choreographed manner of horizontal, vertical, and diagonal attacks in that order. The difference with this night was that she carried more confidence and expertise in her sword, which led to some very effective strikes. It could not be doubted at this point that she was progressing.

With a few more strikes to his blade, Otomo jumped back and pinned the tip of his blade to the floor. Tomako ceased any action and stood in a valiant manner.

“Not bad,” he complimented. “Your offensive resolve is coming along nicely. Who knows, perhaps you could teach aspiring warrior women how to fight one day.”

Tomako smiled and sheathed her blade. “There must be fine chemistry between us. You are a masterful teacher, and perhaps I am a masterful student.”

This provoked Otomo into making a slow grin, “You are a *good* student, but do not identify yourself as ‘masterful’ or ‘elite,’ otherwise, you will begin to believe so.”

“But wouldn’t it be to my advantage to think I’m a master of the sword?”

“Deluding yourself in such a way could work to your advantage in simple spars, yes, it could. But should the delusion lead you into a fight with an *actual* master... I think not.”

A nod was returned, then an impatient stare. Knowing that every minute wasted was at the expense of her parents, she became anxious.

“Best we continue now than later. What’s next?” she asked.

“Patience, patience…”

“But -”

“Relax yourself, child…”

The man approached a nearby pan of water and drank from it. The sight of this caused Tomako to lick her lips, yet she wanted to keep the fire from training alive. Her impatience led her to unsheathe her sword again and continue swinging. After drinking enough water, Otomo turned with a tempered look.

“Alright, I was being gentle with you before; now I am left with no choice but to issue a mandate.” Tomako stopped swinging and turned to him with concern. “Lay down your arm, Tomako, and take a break already.”

Surprisingly, she chose to disrespect him. “I mustn’t stop, I still have energy.”

The man approached her with gradually narrowing eyes, “I did not offer you a break, I have *imposed* it upon you.” The woman’s eyes became massive. “I’ve led enough men during war to know a thing or two about training. Men who train to these extremes were the most exceptional warriors in the army.” This excited the woman. “These same men would die from exhaustion. Either from marching or in battle.” Following this darkness, he ordered again, “Put away your sword.”

All sense of stubbornness faded as the woman immediately and without question sheathed her katana. Following this, she was offered the pan of water, which she accepted just as quickly. Otomo exhaled in relief and sat, as did Tomako. With the woman finally tame, they entered a period of peace and etiquette behavior while passing the water back and forth.

“I am sorry, Otomo. I did not mean to act with such dishonor.”

“It is of no consequence to your pot of honor.” His eyes closed as a grin surfaced. “If I were truly so offended, I would have issued a duel to you for satisfaction.”

“Excuse me?”

He calmly explained, “When an Imperyean warrior is offended by stubbornness, it is within their right to challenge the offender to a duel to settle the score.” Tomako fluttered her eyes in response. “A man who declines such a duel is hardly a man at all. This is what sets Imperyean men apart from Krucifixan men. Challenge an offending Imperyean to a duel and you will always find an opportunity; challenge a Krucifixan man to a duel and they will always hide in their shell.”

A bit nervous, Tomako replied, “Will I have to duel people on my journey?”

Otomo laughed, “A woman settling a dispute through a duel…” he laughed harder. “Such an unworldly concept, yet, one you may very well find yourself in, should you go forth on this fool’s quest.”

“Do you mean I would duel by actual sword?”

“Preferably something non-lethal, such as a stick.”

“Ah.”

Following Otomo’s turn with the water, he handed it back to her and explained, “We have concluded our face-to-face training for the day. I do, however, have a new lesson I shall be passing on tonight, knowing how impatient you are.”

“Oh, excellent.” Still on her knees, she bowed. “I am eager to learn.”

More silence followed with Tomako picking up an intense gaze from the man. She made little of this and continued the exchange of water. Soon, Otomo stroked his chin while nodding at her, easily intimidating her with a strong stare.

“It is interesting. If I did not know you, I would have to assume you were born to be a warrior woman.”

Naturally, she responded with, “What does the warrior woman do?”

“Exactly what the name implies. Female warriors of the Imperyean people who fight alongside the samurai, or more literally, to their husband’s shoulder.” Tomako’s interest was raised, hence why Otomo decided to expand upon this. “You might believe that warrior women are a rarity, and they are, except for a seasoned veteran of war like myself, who has encountered many in our Krucifixan campaigns.”

“A woman who fights alongside their husband?”

“Exactly. The Imperyean warrior woman is assigned directly beside their lover, creating a powerful bond that has the husband putting everything he has into his attacks.”

Tomako thought about this interesting fact for a few moments, then beamed with closed eyes. “I’m surprised a man like you did not wed with such a woman.”

This was said in a joking behavior, but not received with much humor. Tomako opened her eyes after gritting her teeth, recognizing the lack of emotion on Otomo’s face. He drank from the pan and said nothing on the matter.

“Oh, I’ve offended you.” She retracted her face a bit, embarrassed by her comment. “I deeply regret my choice of words, I meant no harm at all.”

Otomo looked back up at her and smirked with wide eyes, “Oh, it’s of no consequence. I’ve no romantic connection to the warrior women; but this did strike a nerve, for it reminded me of my wife, who once desired to join me on the battlefield in Krucifix.”

Tomako gulped, “Your… wife.”

“You may or may not recall from your younger days that I am married.”

“I do not recall…” Tomako frowned and closed her eyes. “I suppose the room I am currently residing in belonged to her.”

“No.” Tomako opened her eyes again, surprised by this. “The room you reside in, I built it alongside her with the ambition of a son or daughter in mind.” Becoming uncomfortable, Tomako began to tap a finger over her knuckle. “Like you, I desired a new addition to my family both for the sake of happiness and a legal heir to my dynasty.”

“Tragic,” she commented. “I suppose Kushyrin is not well known for its medicine. Illness is often fatal on this island, as you must understand.”

“Correct, but irrelevant to my situation.” Again, Tomako responded with some surprise. “For all I know, my wife may not be dead.”

“What? Really?”

Otomo dipped his head, “I met her over nineteen years ago; not out of desperate need for a child, but out of true love for each other.”

Tomako blinked, “Love?”

“It is not unheard of. Many, if not most, Imperyeans will marry out of romantic affection.” The woman blinked with a distant mind, reflecting over her own romantic interests. “The case is often different for the nobility or those of elite class. Persons of the upper class are expected to marry those of similar prestige; in my case, the daughter or sister of a fellow clan general, perhaps. I instead, fell for a commoner.”

The young woman shrugged, “Sounds fine to me.”

“Extra conflict derived from the blood of my wife who, I should say, was not as Imperyean as most...” Tomako dropped her brows in suspicion. “For the sake of avoiding controversy for her not so Imperyean lineage, she remained hidden away in the house most days, hence why you have no recollection of her. Though we were expected to reside in the castle here in Boshtang, we instead settled in this very house. She desired a more common style of life, as she was accustomed to. A castle did not suit her happiness, so I accepted without exception.”

“I had a feeling you didn’t build this place through trade revenue alone.” Her eyes came back to his. “Please, continue.”

“Our romantic life continued to prosper with only one issue.” His eyes closed and hands pocketed. “Whenever the Imperyean Empire declared a Peninsular War, I had to take leave from here immediately. As you know, war with Krucifix was constant and costly. A holy war for the peninsula, for most men, is an opportunity like no other; a chance to fill one’s pot of honor fighting for the lost holy land. What is an opportunity for honor to most was a problem for one who desired a simpler life with his lover, unfortunately.”

Tomako crossed her arms angrily, protesting, “Those filthy Krucifixans ruined your marriage.”

“On the contrary,” he answered to her surprise. “The first three wars against Krucifix she insisted on coming along with me to fight by my side as a warrior woman. As much as I desired to let her take a sword by my side, I would not risk losing her to the Krucifixans. Furthermore, I often feared she may be mistaken for an enemy’s wife and put into harm’s way by our own Imperyean warriors.”

“Hm? Why would they do that?”

“What?”

Tomako inquired, “Why would Imperyeans mistake your wife for a Krucifixan?” Otomo simply blinked at her, reviewing his own words carefully. “Did she look Krucifixan?”

With some hesitance, the man closed his eyes and beamed, “Oh yes. Very Krucifixan in the face and hair. A beautiful woman with exotic brown hair curling off the shoulders some days carefully tucked back into a bun on others. She feared me very much, yet had a rare kind of bravery that had her staring directly into my eyes when speaking.”

Tomako, having never seen a Krucifixan before, was left with a conflict of imagination, picturing a barbarian that Krucifixans were so often compared to, yet beautiful enough to follow Otomo into the Imperyean upper class. She did, however, have questions she would not dare ask on the topic of her fearing Otomo.

Finally, he set down the pan of water and raised both his hands up with joy. “With every war, my wife would wait for me here. Each time I returned, the household would be cleaned spotless, all the candles replaced, bedding clean, and such things. She served both our interests with enthusiasm whenever war came.”

“Very honorable. Such as to be expected from the wife of Otomo.”

Otomo lowered his brows, “Yes… and she did this for five out of eight Krucifixan wars I fought in.” Tomako tilted her head in fear of what was to come. “Our sixth war, she did not show up at the beach to greet my return. The seventh war, she had the ignorance to demand that I cease my campaigns against Krucifix, wishing me to lay down my sword forever.” He closed his eyes and became silent for a few seconds. “And the eighth war she disappeared. Never to be seen again…”

Tomako trembled for a moment before breathing in and offering her thought. “Where do you think she went?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted with a shrug. “Perhaps she grew tired of my constant disappearances to Krucifix. Perhaps there was an affair going on against my knowledge. Perhaps she was kidnapped while Boshtang’s military was away in Krucifix. Maybe she died an honest accidental death. Or, of course, perhaps I underestimated the severity of her warning when she told me to cease my involvement with the wars. I don’t know, all I do know is that she’s gone and has not returned.”

With sorrow, Tomako lowered her shoulders and muttered, “Well, I suppose it is worth holding onto faith. Surely, one as honorable as her would not act belligerently toward you by choice.”

The man, now sinking in his own sorrow, concluded, “The room you reside in belongs to the child we intended to have just prior to her disappearance. Perhaps it would have contained a boy, destined to assume control of my sword and lead thousands of soldiers into battle. Maybe it would have been a girl, destined to create a marital alliance with another dynasty. Right now, instead of hosting a daughter of the literal sense, that bed is comforting a *daughter figure* who now wishes to so clumsily toss her life away in a fool’s quest that -” he stopped himself, seeking not to offend her. “I digress, I believe you are ready for your next lesson…”

Both stood and took out their swords with Tomako still shaking off his story. It may not have been a sound idea to take in his story before learning new combat lessons, for now, her mind was centered around his wife. Nonetheless, she watched with an open enough mind. Otomo performed various defensive moves, all of which were familiar, for they were the very moves he had been making to block her attacks.

“Surely, you’ve become somewhat familiar with how I block your attacks. Now it is your turn.”

“Of course.”

Otomo squinted, “The only problem is that I am teaching you how to stop an attack made from Imperyean weaponry; I am, unfortunately, unsure of how effective these moves will be against non-Imperyean weaponry.”

“Teach me,” she requested anyway.

“Very well.” He placed his feet down in a combat stance. “The first thing you must know about defense is that posture plays a major contribution to an effective block. So, position your feet, like so…”

Hence almost two hours would ensue of defensive training, the second half of training needed for mastery of the basics. Given Tomako’s bright person and Otomo’s excellent instructing, much progress would be made in the coming days.

The following day had Tomako respecting her physical limitations far more as she refrained from exercising for well over half the day. Instead, the day was spent plotting out her course on the world map in addition to taking strolls around Boshtang.

Standing before the map present in her room of stay, Tomako measured plausible travel routes by using her fingers.

“Hm…”

A finger lined up with her island of Kushyrin, there she tried to measure her way southwest until reaching a kingdom that took up half of Mainland Southeast Shimua. Unable to read, she had no idea what kingdom she was pointing to nor could she understand the written warnings that surrounded it. Nonetheless, this plotted path was observed and considered by the woman for almost a whole minute. The only help she got was simplistic terrain drawings; small triangles to represent mountains, simple lines for rivers, a great number of trees to represent forests and jungles.

*That place over there I’m seeing has jungles and rivers. Maneuvering on my horse could be problematic…*

The idea of traversing through trees, swamps, and rivers was a struggle worth considering, however, persevering would eventually put her in South Shimua. Additionally, given South Shimua’s position beside Legolide, there was a chance she could locate a crew of sailors willing to bring her under Legolide and all the way up to Swatsland. In theory, this was a great idea, but there was a lot unknown about the kingdom she pointed to, let alone if she could even find a way to get there in one voyage.

With great skepticism of this route, Tomako turned and continued to contemplate routes. While the Mainland Southeast Shimua route was very possible, there was one dominant issue that couldn’t be helped. She hadn’t a clue what a jungle looked like, and by extension, not a clue as to what one might contain. It was an idea worth shelving but not investing into, yet…

That night brought about a repeat of the last, with Tomako tossing her sword up and down in a choreographed manner. This time she was blocking strikes sent by Otomo rather than sending them. The man was acting with a fierce expression, but also paying attention to ensure that he doesn’t inflict harm on his student. With using real swords and real force, an ex-samurai had to be mindful of this beginner combatant.

A strong strike led Otomo to simper, “If I didn’t know any better, I would say you’ve grasped an understanding of defense faster than you did offense.”

She did not respond. With a continuing grin, Otomo began to approach her while swinging; instinctively, Tomako moved in reverse while blocking. He was beyond impressed by her ability to retain concentration even while evading him. The fool’s quest aside, seeing Tomako develop was almost becoming entertaining to him simply in that she was finding so much success.

The two soon proceeded to move around the room in combat circles, and as always, Tomako refused to converse. The fight became more complex as Otomo began to not only move toward her but also try and step around her. Tomako not only continued to back away from him but also refused to let him flank her.

A continuing pattern of attacks and blocks went on for another minute as the two move around the cellar training room. Through enough perseverance, Tomako managed to block off every single attack without failure, and so Otomo jumped away and sheathed his sword.

“Very good,” he complimented. Tomako acknowledged his compliment with a bow. “But, perhaps too good, considering I taught you these moves just last night...”

Tomako sheathed her sword with a slight pant, “What are you saying?”

“Your tendency to practice. You were overdoing it again, despite my issued warnings.”

“No, honestly, I wasn’t,” she argued. “I practiced before bed and a little bit in the afternoon. Surely, that is fine.”

“Hm…” Though skeptical of Tomako’s claim, Otomo shrugged the moment off. “I suppose you are a fast learner.”

The pan of water was offered to Tomako, who accepted it in a seated position. Otomo again joined her, this time kneeling in front of her. Fortunately for him, Tomako was far more exhausted this time around, easily taming her. Her throat burned, her heart beat, and her skin moistened. Above all, her muscles ached as a clear side effect of her excessive practicing. Only now did she truly understand the repercussions of overworking.

Otomo, practically reading her mind, asked, “Are you alright?”

Tomako looked up with an innocent face. “Absolutely, yes, I am feeling…” her pious person intervened, leading her to instead confess, “Well, I have felt better days…”

With a hum, Otomo smirked and proposed, “There is a night festival being held down in Nakohama tomorrow. Would you be interested in attending? As I recall, you brought along your kimono dress.”

“Oh my, it has been many, many, many years since I attended a night festival.” As exciting of a proposal as this was, Tomako looked away with a deterred face. “But I mustn’t distract myself with festivities, not while my parents are enduring hardships and mistreatment.”

A wink was returned, “Attending the festival will your morale, give you confidence; any great warrior is in need of a constant supply of this.”

No hesitation was taken in shaking her hand at him, “No thank you.” Otomo nodded, but with this accepting nod also came a disapproving gaze. Tomako answered his gaze with greater detail of her rejection, “Aside from the loss of practice that would come from it, I would risk being courted by a man. That would effectively keep me from taking on my journey.”

Otomo fluttered his eyes in shock at her, “Are you being serious?” The woman’s face froze in shock. “You are halting your love life for the sake of this fool’s quest?”

“I…” The sudden negative look she had would suggest his words dealt good damage. “If I am to make this journey to Swatsland, I will need my heart to come with me.”

Otomo criticized her with a headshake. “Have it your way.”

This daily pattern continued. Morning map studying, afternoon practice, evening training with Otomo, late evening practice, and finally sleep. For days this pattern continued, perhaps a surprise to Otomo was Tomako’s continued obsession with her fool’s quest. Her ambition to reunite with her family in Swatsland wasn’t dying down; if anything, her flame was getting bigger and brighter. Tomako was becoming smarter, more powerful, and more tactful with every day; along with this, she became closer to Otomo to the point where she even felt comfortable bathing in his house; preferably whenever he’d be away working his merchant shack.

With combat ability coming in and boosting her confidence, there was a problem for Otomo. With every day, Tomako became more impatient. Her impatience no longer orchestrated complaints, it now produced silent threats of wanting to leave. Otomo was trying his hardest to influence her mind—food, sleep, training, bathing, money—but all to no avail with her. Time was running out to convince her to stay in Imperyea, yet he had to keep training her. So long as she was kept busy with swordplay, she would stay; with every day that went by, however, even sword lessons was losing its luster. The simple reality became that, with a little more frustration and impatience, Tomako would soon depart from here. Tomako’s time here was thinning and Otomo had few cards left to play.

One day, Tomako again dueled Otomo in the arena. They were no longer fighting with choreographed moves nor a static offensive or defensive scheme; actual duels were occurring that incorporated offense and defense, just not at full speed. The posture of Tomako’s person was now very professional while fighting as was her handling of the sword. Otomo respected her as an opponent of gradually increasing skill but had yet to teach her any new forms of fighting beyond horizontal, vertical, and diagonal blocks and attacks. He was set on having her master these basics before anything else.

The two went back and forth with attacks, Tomako performed a good balance of horizontal and vertical strikes while sometimes making diagonal swipes when appropriate. Of course, Otomo blocked each of her attacks in a professional way. Very few mistakes were made with Tomako’s defensive scheme. Every now and then she made the error of employing the wrong defensive move, but this was becoming rarer with every day.

The two continued to duel in combat circles, that is, they fought while shifting in an endless circle. Attempts to flank Tomako would occur throughout, and in a surprising twist, Tomako would at times mimic him and try to flank him. As to be expected though, she never succeeded in getting around the former samurai.

“If only all soldiers who trained under my banner had the concentration and determination that you possess,” Otomo complimented. “We would have conquered Krucifix and I would still have a wife.”

As always, Tomako did not respond. Otomo struck her blade with great swiftness, then followed this up with a horizontal block. Then, following this, a vertical swing toward Tomako that was sent away by a strong block, just a little too aggressive for the friendly duel they were having.

“I will not lie. Exchanging swings with you has really opened my eyes. I never realized how much I miss training soldiers and seeing their humbled faces. You remind me of them, all of them. The big difference is that you are much weaker than -”

For the first time *ever*, Tomako was the one to jump away with a blade to the floor. With hidden lips, she closed one eye and spoke, “Speaking of Krucifix… err… well…”

“Out with it,” he demanded.

“More so, on the topic of my righteous journey…”

Otomo squinted, “Ah, yes. The fool’s quest. What of it?”

Tomako made nothing of the insult, so commonly made at this point that it became more of a joke. “You say my best choice would be to land in Krucifix and embark toward Swatsland from there. But I’ve been reviewing the map and have come up with a better route.”

Otomo closed his eyes and laughed out of insult, then sheathed his sword and crossed his arms, “Oh, this should be rich…”

She proceeded to explain, “If I can acquire access to a ship willing to go southwest, I can land in the kingdom of… um… that place southwest of here, connected to the mainland, full of jungles and rivers -”

“You likely mean Xi-Unchin.”

“So, from there I can travel northwest into the more inner part of Shimua, move west through the other countries, go through the yellow region that I assume represents desert and maybe from there -”

“Stop, stop…” Otomo almost whined.

With a somewhat tempered expression, Tomako reacted, “What?”

Otomo walked forward and mocked her with a chuckle, “Xi-Unchin is one of the cruelest kingdoms in all of Shimua in terms of survivability. Dangerous insects, infections, hostile to foreigners, dangerous zealots to their faith, land too wet for horseback, immense crime. I call it a fool’s quest with the expectation that you go where I tell you. If you plan on going to Xi-Unchin, we as might as well stop training now and just go out shopping for a tombstone to take with you, because you’ll be dead in a day.”

Tomako had been provoked to the point of shaking fists, but through great endurance, she refrained from lighting up in rage. Instead, she tried to find reason in his response.

“Okay, I see your point. I suppose this would all be assuming I find a ship willing to travel there, anyway.”

He insisted passionately, “Go to Krucifix. The people there will hate you, if not try and have you murdered, being Imperyean and all, but at least the terrain won’t be as bad.”

Tomako respected this instruction with a nod, “Very well.”

Somehow, Otomo successfully kept Tomako posted for a few more days, but only through conceding to her sessions of training and planning in relation to the quest. It was on this day Otomo hoped to renew her interest in staying, for he had a prestigious announcement to make. The pieces were all coming together for Tomako and now the time had finally come for some gratification.

Tomako moved into Otomo while swinging, managing to send two swings at him before needing to block. At this point, neither person had an obvious advantage over the other. Otomo was still impossible to flank, but as it would appear, this worked vice versa as well. Tomako presented herself like the very warrior women they so recently spoke about and she did so with pride. Still, Otomo was only facing her with beginner moves.

One final vertical strike had Otomo leaping away with an instant bow to her. This caught her by great surprise.

“Congratulations, Tomako Angel.”

Hearing this caused her eyes to widen, “Wha—a!? Have I mastered -”

“Indeed, there are no lessons left to teach on this subject. Through determination, stamina, and intelligence you have become a master…” Tomako gawked at him with a beating heart, “- of the bare minimum needed to become a master of the blade.”

This moment was silenced by crushed suspense. Tomako’s eyes darted all over the place as she registered what was just said; eventually, temper found its way onto her face.

In a somewhat hostile tone, Tomako responded, “The bare minimum?”

“What I mean to say is that you have mastered the basics of basics. Once you complete the lower-intermediate lessons, I shall reward you the right to call yourself threatening.”

With a cold blink, Tomako repeated, “Bare minimum..?”

Otomo cleared his throat, “You should be proud. To swing as you do requires excellent perception and accuracy, two things that can take months to acquire. You’ve only been training for a little more than a week and I’m already calling you a master of these basic motions.”

Tomako sheathed her sword with eyes of distress, “You mean to tell me that there’s more to this?”

“Well, yes, of course.” The man began to count with his fingers. “There is the duck, roll, attack, and counter-attack procedure; the uppercut movement, the rotational strike movement; and let us not forget the much-dreaded situation of blade clashing, where you and your opponent lock up blades in an ultimate contest of strength.” Tomako’s eyes shook in horror. “That isn’t even touching upon the move sets, only the components. Move sets and components are two very different subjects. It’s one thing to know horizontal and vertical attacks, but an entirely different week of lessons in teaching you how to properly conduct them all in efficient and unpredictable order.”

In an unbelievable sight, Tomako rudely interrupted by tossing her arms up in the air and declaring, “I don’t have time for this!”

“Tomako! Suppress your rage...”

The woman marched around the room in an ensuing tantrum, “For all this time I’ve been playing samurai, my parents are out being mistreated by men from another continent!” Then, with both hands over her head, Tomako spoke her will sternly. “I have no more time to waste. I must take leave.”

Otomo faced her with barred teeth, “Don’t be ridiculous. I call it a fool’s quest with the expectation that you go forth with sword mastery, to go on your fool’s quest without knowing how to fight makes it a hopeless quest.”

She turned around with a glare, “Please, stop calling it a fool’s quest already! I assure you after I retrieve my family from Swatsland and return here, you’ll be so embarrassed to ever speak of my journey again.”

Otomo attacked her with a devilish smirk, “Do you have any idea how large this world is? From the eastern edge of the world that is Imperyea to the western edge of Swatsland. Uncountable lands crowded with unimaginable dangers; not just from thieves, murderers, and pirates, but also from wildlife, weather, starvation, and illnesses.” Otomo further attacked her with a direct gaze to her eyes. “What will you do when you contract a stomach illness and find yourself surrounded by perverted bandits? Hm? What will you do? Go on, tell me.”

Tomako, defiant, turned away from him and began to take leave from the training room. “I’ve humored your warnings long enough. I recognize what I may and probably will face out there, but with that being said, staying here and allowing my family to suffer for another day just cannot occur. It is not only unthinkable, it is dishonorable, too.”

Led by anger, Tomako turned her back on the man and moved toward the cellar door. Otomo, at a loss for what to do, looked around the room desperately for any little opportunity to stop her. This was a woman driven by impatience and lack of understanding of the world ahead of her. There was only one thing he could do to knock some sense into her.

“Tomako.”

The Imperyean turned around with only a second or so of reaction time to a long stick he had just thrown her way. She caught it and eyed him up very skeptically. Otomo pulled up a stick of his own and forced it down to the floor with immense force. He came off as irate.

“Do you want to leave here, Tomako?”

“I do not,” she slowly approached the man, “But I must.”

Otomo grimaced, “Okay, I’ll let you leave, but only if you can prove competent enough to defeat a foe in battle.” Tomako stepped up to him bravely. “If you can defeat a former samurai, I will be convinced that you have what it takes to defend yourself from the common uneducated threats you may encounter.”

Tomako raised her stick, “Defeat you? With this stick?”

“These sticks are carved the same height as the very sword you hold. With them, we will be allowed to engage in a simulated battle. If my stick strikes you, that’s it, the duel is over. I don’t care how determined you are, in the real world, a sword to the waist will end you.” Otomo further dictated, “Should I strike you, you will agree to remain under my roof and let me complete your training. Should you win, I will prepare you for travel and release you without objection. I hold these terms under a promise.”

The woman examined her weapon before looking at Otomo with concern. “But, as you say, I have only mastered much of the basics. You’re a seasoned military leader.”

“So, you’re conscious enough to see the point I’m trying to convey?” He planted down his stick with lowered eyelids. “You cannot defeat a warrior, not with your current level of expertise. You could perhaps fend off against wildlife and a foolish looter, but against a trained warrior, you will die.”

He grunted, for despite his claim, Tomako raised her stick and said, “I would still wish to try.”

Otomo blinked a single time, “Child…”

“You said that I could leave without objection if I defeat you.”

“You are missing the point I was making. You are not ready to actually fight me. The point of my challenge is to make you realize just how low you currently are in the warrior chain.”

Still, she answered, “Perhaps. But given a situation where I encounter a hostile warrior, I will have no other choice than to fight.”

Otomo hummed, “True.” Then with sharp eyes, he sighed. “If that is what you wish. The rules will be that if at any point the stick contacts body, a fatal wound has been inflicted. Additionally, I am permitted to use my full talents in battle. Do you accept these terms?”

With great reluctance, Tomako bowed, “Let’s go.”

Standing adjacent to each other from separate ends of the room, Tomako readied her stick, as did Otomo. All concentration was put into the woman’s fighting will, desiring to find a miracle that would allow her to strike Otomo. The former samurai remained somewhat agitated amidst this situation. The angry look on him made clear to Tomako that this was no game, he was going to try and strike her down using all the skill he had.

“Have you any last questions?” She shook her head. “Very well, then. Now comes the true test.”

With a strong tap of the foot, Otomo signaled for the existence of a duel. It was Tomako who ran forward to attack and Otomo who remained where he was. The first attack made was a vertical strike on Tomako’s part, performed while running. Her friend both anticipated this and worked fast to bat away her attempt. Before she could respond to the block, Otomo unleashed his own fury. A powerful horizontal swipe was made followed by a quick vertical move. Tomako dodged the first attack by ducking and blocked the vertical attack off luck alone. These few attacks were all it took for the woman to discover the problem; Otomo was too fast for her.

Unlike in their training, no time was given for Tomako to attack; Otomo knew how to keep his weapon in constant movement. Otomo swung the stick as if his life was truly on the line, he felt no need for defense in this situation. Panicked, Tomako blocked and evaded all his attacks while desperately searching for her own opportunity.

It took a series of diagonal attacks for Tomako to achieve any opportunity, which she used in the form of a non-taught thrust. Otomo batted her attempt away without breaking a sweat. Tomako took to retreating for more space, but he stayed on her and refused to let go of his attacks.

“See? Once you’ve engaged the enemy, you will be praying they are not so capable as this.” His constant attacking persisted, which was causing Tomako to sweat given her constant leaping, rolling, and blocking. “I’ve caught you. You cannot break the offensive drive of a samurai, and if you cannot best an old Imperyean man, what chance have you against a young Swatslandic knight? Or a Krucifixan blade?”

Tomako brushed off the lecture and dropped to the floor. Once on her back, she blocked a very strong vertical strike while kicking at his leg. Otomo was insistent on keeping his leg planted, thus her attack was useless. In fact, it had the opposite intended effect, for this just led him to glare at her dirty dueling strategy.

To avoid being hit, Tomako blocked an attack and followed this up by batting away at his stick. She got back on her feet and at last got a few attacks made off at him. Each one was blocked with no real struggle. Otomo soon resumed his unbreakable series of attacks.

“Truth be told, I have deep respect for your fighting ambition. I really do. But I will *never* support your fool’s quest because I care for you more than anyone left in this world.” Tomako was made to grunt in surprise. “The challenges ahead are unpredictable, and it will all start with the Krucifixans of all people. Believe me, the Krucifixans are savage toward Imperyean *men*; what do you think will happen when the Krucifixans encounter a lone Imperyean *woman* walking through their kingdom?”

Otomo crashed his stick down upon Tomako’s, the force breaking her grasp of the stick for a moment. She jumped back and placed both hands on the weapon again but found Otomo right back at her. Due to a mental strain, Tomako was at a temporary point where she was relying on dodging rather than blocking.

“I’ll say it because I am an honest man and you an honest woman. If you step foot in Krucifix, your journey will likely end with a Krucifixan taking you to bed with him. I don’t wish this upon you.”

After shoving Tomako back a few steps, he sent out a thrust that nearly stabbed her. Tomako grit her teeth in fear but reconstructed her confidence. Otomo took slow steps toward her and grimaced.

“Forty-seven wars against Krucifix and we still have yet to reclaim our peninsula from them. I may be powerful, my men may have been powerful, but even so, the Krucifixans were an entirely different enemy from what we knew. I cheated death *three* times when facing the Krucifixans. A stab to the stomach, an arrow to the neck, and a sword to the shoulder. Sometimes even I could not best my foes.”

Tomako seized the opportunity of a speaking Otomo by throwing a horizontal attack forth, this was her closest attempt yet; still, he managed to block it with a simple vertical block. Then, he moved his foot up and floored Tomako with a kick. Having fallen to her chest, she knew to roll away to evade an attack. Otomo continued to strike at the ground as she rolled, but all his attacks failed.

“You are an evasive one, I admit. But no one wins a battle through that alone.” His grounded attack to follow was quicker, but also missed due to sporadic rolling. “Unfortunately, from what I am seeing, you shall be doing a lot of evading in your battles. Exhaust your enemy if you must, but eventually, you have to chance an attack.”

Tomako did just that by jumping up with a diagonal strike. This was by far her closest attack, as it at the very least came close to Otomo’s shoulder. He expressed surprise at this quick move but ultimately chuckled.

“Every warrior can fight as you do, even archers have a basic understanding of the sword. In your current state, only the inexperienced should fear you.”

He swung horizontally twice, which Tomako dodged both times by ducking. She capitalized on these two misses by horizontally going for his waist, but he escaped this attack by strafing away. At the very least, this was the first time he had been forced to dodge anything.

Otomo shook his head, bothered by the feeling of immense sweat building up over him. Naturally, Tomako was red and moist as well. His grasp of the stick became strong but his energy on a decline.

“I understand that you mean to wear me down. An admirable effort, but useless. How will you take advantage of my fatigue if you yourself suffer the same?” Tomako dealt three attacks—horizontal, vertical, and diagonal. This caused him to smirk. “How long will you keep this charade going? Will you wear me out until we’re both on the floor gasping for water? Until one of us passes out from dehydration?” Tomako merely reacted by shaking her head. “I grow tired of this mundane engagement. There is little to commend in this battle. Any peasant can jump around in a fight, it will do you no good against a warrior of my caliber.”

Otomo’s next move was a powerful uppercut which sent Tomako’s stick flying into the air. Tomako gasped and jumped away, now disarmed.

“You are disarmed. I declare victory.”

To his frustration, she persisted by making a run for the stick. The woman danced around for a few seconds as he came toward her. Just barely, she managed to drop and roll past his leg. In an embarrassing miscalculation, Otomo struck between his legs, having expected her to try diving between his legs. Instead, Tomako regained control of her weapon and faced him again.

“Luck,” he commented.

More fighting ensued with Otomo and Tomako now exchanging a fair deal of attacks. Still, there existed a clear advantage on the former’s part. Both fighters were sweating and desperate for water, at the same time unwilling to end the fight. Otomo had now ceased his taunting arguments, unable to waste such energy toward that. Tomako hadn’t spoken a word since the beginning of the duel.

The attacks Otomo now landed were brief and weak, switching to a series of light attacks rather than powerful ones. Tomako fought the only way she had been taught, that is the basics. With every swing, Otomo became angrier.

“Come now, Tomako. Stay with me for a year or so. I will train you to be a master of the sword, then nothing will stop you.” Tomako sent him low brows of lacking interest. “You’ve proven to hold spectacular willpower and stamina, now let us combine that with martial ability.” Tomako continued to attack him unsuccessfully, which was an answer in Otomo’s eyes. “Or, better yet, accept that the gods want you to stay here in Imperyea, where you will be happier, and also not dead.”

Despite being a cool cellar, both fighters were melting. Even Otomo, the teacher, was beginning to break from this extensive fight. It wasn’t the hardest duel he ever fought, but it was a taxing and frustrating one. Tomako was a foe who should easily have been beaten, but her defensive capabilities were astounding. There was little chance of her defeating him, yet Otomo couldn’t defeat her. It was a stalemate that could only be decided through fatigue.

Tomako had reached a point where she was chipping away at the man, making very swift attacks—each blocked, but with each block, a loss of energy. Otomo’s eyes darted left and right constantly while blocking, then came onto Tomako, whose eyes were solid on him. He narrowed his eyes back at her.

“I’m afraid I must bring this duel to an end, now…”

With this said, Otomo channeled all his strength and determination into his weapon. Tomako soon found the ex-samurai attacking her with ridiculous speed and force. So many dodges were occurring that Tomako was essentially hopping around. About two swings were made every three seconds, each of which Tomako either blocked or evaded. A point had been reached where Otomo was rapidly chopping away in any way he could, putting his professionalism into question. No matter what move he made, Tomako’s defense could not be breached, and with this, he had reached his limit.

Otomo let out an enraged shout. “I’ve had enough of you!”

An attack by Tomako was blocked, following which, Otomo decked Tomako with an abusively strong kick. She was floored without challenge.

Tomako raised her chin and looked up at Otomo with watery eyes as he towered over her with barred teeth. This was going beyond the duel now.

“This is ridiculous! Why don’t you understand, Tomako!? I am looking out for your best interests. I don’t want you to leave for Swatsland because I care for you, idiot.” Tomako gasped at the insult. “You’re a good fighter, but you could be better! You cannot win your fights by simply jumping around and blocking swings! Yes, yes, you’ve done well in escaping me, I admit, but all the same, you’re no closer to defeating me. You haven’t come close to defeating me in this battle, don’t you see? Offensively, you cannot win! You can’t win!”

At that moment, Otomo let out a very loud grunt and found his eyes watering. Tomako’s eyes had narrowed, then shortly after opened in awe. The room went silent as Otomo quirked his mouth and gazed down to find her stick pushed against his stomach. He fell victim to a seized opportunity, his own mouth distracting him too much in the end.

Without expression, Otomo closed his eyes and sighed.

“I see…”

Tomako still did not speak but kept the stick firm against his stomach. The man dropped his stick and pocketed his hands with a smirk. A sort of relief came to him knowing that this physically taxing duel had come to an end, but he also knew the price of failure.

“Honestly, I’m not sure whether to praise you or label this as a dishonorable attack.” He continued his smirk but sighed. “But, in a real duel, I would not criticize you for saving yourself.”

With passing seconds, Tomako looked down at the floor and dropped her stick as well. She remained on her stomach for almost a whole minute. Soon, they both got on their knees and faced each other. Otomo did nothing further but sigh.

“You know, Tomako, I know this will offend you dearly to hear. But the truth of it all is… I don’t think your parents are worth the struggle.” Tomako slowly blinked at him with both hands over her lap. “You’re, what, twenty-seven years old?”

She nodded, “I am twenty-seven of age.”

“Your parents are old, Tomako; and now they are to work in Swatsland.” He looked her in the eyes. “Being honest, is there much of a point to retrieving your parents?”

Tomako swallowed, “There is too much at stake. My pot of honor, my parents, and any chance at giving birth to the Perfectly Honorable One.”

“But listen, you are still with honor. The gods do not blame you for whatever fate your parents receive. You act as though your entire pot of honor has been emptied by this when in reality you cannot be blamed for anything.” Tomako looked away with a slight frown. “Twenty-seven, beautiful, smart, and healthy. Wouldn’t you rather live an independent life here? Settle down with a man and accept that the seizing of your parents was cruel destiny?”

A moment was taken to think this over with Tomako clicking her jaw back and forth. Her mother’s tea, her father’s shouting, family bonds, the intense workload that goes into caring for them, her views on honor. In the end, she was unified in her decision.

Tomako bowed, “It may be cruel and unfair of a fate, but my parents are still made to suffer. I must try and reverse this all.”

Otomo’s face became desperate for a moment, but he soon closed his eyes with a pathetic grin. “I suppose the sorrow I’m feeling is my fault alone. I always wanted a child, and for a time, I felt that I had one. But you are not my child, as I must remember…” He looked away for a moment and cupped a fist over his mouth. “I suppose your mind is set. I must let you leave this place, even if I sincerely doubt you shall return.”

For the next minute, the two sat in silence. Tomako was unwilling to reconsider her mission; her journey would begin the next day. Otomo was left thinking over many things, especially the fact that Tomako would soon be yet another distant memory. He wasn’t just losing a longtime business partner, he was losing a close friend as well. Life in Boshtang just wouldn’t be the same without Tomako.

“Well, if you will not allow me to turn you into a proper warrior, at least allow me to feed you and give you a bed on this final night.” Tomako smiled, feeling blessed by his support. “I will prepare a bag of goods, hopefully enough to get you to Dayaking and instruct you on where to go from here.”

Tomako slowly closed her eyes, “I accept your gifts. Thank you.”

As the sun shined over the village of Boshtang that following day, the time had come for Tomako’s departure into the unknown. Beside Otomo’s merchant shack, the woman mounted herself over the horse she had taken here. Though it was Otomo’s horse, he was allowing her to keep it in exchange for the two far superior horses she brought with the carriage. She recognized this as a scam but made nothing of it, especially with the cows she promised him having been slaughtered by the Swatslandic.

Otomo finished tying a sack of food and herbs to Tomako’s saddle. The woman gave him an appreciative nod as she held onto her sword—*EngelReise*.

“The process is done,” Otomo acknowledged. “Your destination is the capital city of Korion, located on the island of Dayaking. There you should find ships willing to bring you to Krucifix.”

“I will remember the name.”

Otomo nodded with watery eyes, “Good, good…” He continued, “Just know, that once you leave Korion, you will have also left behind a people who are friendly to you. The Imperyeans treat you as their own, we all love you; the Krucifixans, on the other hand, remember the forty-seven wars of the past…”

Tomako looked down at the man with a serious, yet sympathetic face. “You’ve been good to me, Otomo. My entire life. Wherever I go, your name will follow.” Turning her head to the hills, she exhaled. “I don’t wish to offend by my quick leave, but I really must be going if I hope to reach Dayaking by tomorrow.”

“Ah, but wait.” Tomako looked back down, where she found a small dark purple glass vial being offered to her. The vial was capped with a cork and contained within was a very dark liquid. “Take this, you *could* need it.”

Tomako took the vial into hand and gently shook it. With an eye being sent back down to him, Otomo cared to explain.

“Oh?”

“With this special drink, you will never be defeated. If you find yourself in a horrid situation where all means of escape are gone, drink this, and you will be liberated from your situation.” Tomako continued to examine the vial with closed lips. “Every samurai carries one. Use it only if *absolutely necessary,* preferably never, if possible.”

Tomako very slowly pocketed the vial and nodded, “I am sadly too familiar with this substance. My father once stopped -” she cut herself off. “Thank you, Otomo.”

“One last thing.” Tomako’s brows arched. “If you reach Korion and find no way to Krucifix, my advice is that you wait around for a while, see what happens.”

“What does that mean?” she inquired.

He lectured back, “Exactly what I said.”

No words were exchanged past this, though a dramatic silence did divide the two for a time. Eventually, the two gave parting nods, then like that, Tomako ordered her horse away. Otomo lowered his eyebrows sadly once the lone Angel girl took off from Boshtang. With a wave to her, Otomo backed away into the safety of his home, at last, accepting Tomako’s fool’s quest as reality. This was, unfortunately, the last Tomako would see of him, for now.

The sky was blue, the clouds puffy, the sun shining, and the grass shaking. Tomako’s journey began on a gorgeous note. As the woman rode eastward on the plains of Kushyrin, she couldn’t help but look back upon Boshtang, the village she grew up with, and wonder if this was the final time she’d set eyes upon it. Even if she were to ever return with her parents, there was no telling if they would return here. They had no farm to return to, henceforth no reason to come back. Either way, the thought of what would happen after the journey was premature; for now, she had a dangerous journey to make.

And thus, her adventure was set in motion...

To be continued!

**Chapter 3 <** **| > Chapter 5**

## Author Notes

#### Romantic Influence

As it would turn out, my then-friend but eventually-to-be wife made it well known to me upon reading this chapter that this was a favorite of hers, citing Tomako's persistence in holding her ground against Otomo as inspiring. This feedback was especially influential over me at the time largely in part due to the concealed affection I held for her, and thus, as a result, I designed most future duels headed by Tomako to always reference back to this chapter. Originally, the intent behind Tomako refusing to break her concentration and respond to Otomo was unique to his position as a trained samurai warrior, as this was Tomako wisely knowing she could not so much as blink while facing this man. The idea, therefore, was that in future fights against far less masterful foes, Tomako would be a more vocal opponent. Due to the romantic influence in question, however, this changed, and future duels were modeled after the practice duel that occurred in this chapter, most notably Tomako's silent strategy, which has now become a fundamental aspect of her character.

#### Otomo's Wife

The true nature, identity, and fate of Otomo's wife was intentionally left unresolved in this chapter--to the dismay of some--for the sake of creating future theory and discussion linking to the similar mystery of Kim Young's mother, who was later revealed to be kidnapped by Kushyrian samurai during a Krucif-Imperyean War. While the ultimate intention was never to confirm that Kim's mother is the concubine or wife of Otomo, I did decide to flirt with the already existing theory and lay clues around the story beyond this point--of which when put together could either disqualify or prove the theory. While up to this point I generally disapproved of the author of a story artificially intervening into an existing theory in this manner, I enjoyed the 'Mother Kim is Otomo's Wife' theory well enough that I made a decision on the matter and laid out clues.

## Chapter Illustration

This illustration simply depicts Tomako and Otomo in the midst of a duel. In terms of practicality, I wanted to finally give the reader my idea of what Otomo looked like, and I went about this by looking for an excuse to draw full bodied figures. The clothing I gave Otomo, meanwhile, was left intentionally bland to help support the surprise reveal that would occur in a later chapter. At the time this was posted, I definitely felt this was the best chapter illustration for EngelReise.

This illustration also, oddly enough, was the first to visually 'retcon' Tomako's breasts, which had up to this point been much larger. It was around this time that I decided I wanted Tomako's chest size to be flatter, however, at the point of this chapter's release, I had not yet decided how much of a reduction I sought, henceforth she maintained some size in this picture. Due to the minimal importance I deemed this change to have at the time, I performed this retcon silently. A full decision on Tomako's final chest size would not be reached until a short time later.