EngelReise - Chapter 3

**Chapter 2 < | > Chapter 4**

A heartbreaking discovery leaves Tomako alone in a quickly changing world. With her latest nightmare having come true, she is now forced to seek help. Naturally, she turns to her longtime friend, Otomo. With his help, Tomako puts together her plan for the future--even if he disagrees with the plan. As it turns out, Otomo has more than a little advice for Tomako and her upcoming journey. Born a farmer, Otomo hopes to get one final profession under her belt before perhaps bidding farewell.

## Chapter Reading

== Chapter 3 - *EngelReise* =

On that day, the Angel House perhaps unsurprisingly became the latest victim in a line of targeted farms. Now the lone daughter and heir to the Angel House could do nothing more but stare at what remained of her home. It was an unimaginable reality that the Swatslandic believed Soga and Togami would make productive laborers in Svatpa. The truth was simply that the Swatslandic sought to abduct the Angel House and force their talent over to Swatsland, yet by their own error, they failed to abduct the one Angel who had actual farming talent.

A destroyed home, an abducted family, and an insulting Swatslandic banner planted in the grass. The waving fabric existed as a statement that Swatsland was in control and that citizens of Imperyea should obey. To Tomako, the banner existed primarily to mock her. Try as her family did to coexist with the Swatslandic occupation, the army still felt it necessary to reduce the legendary Angel estate to rubble, enslave the family, and steal all their belongings. With this, Tomako believed it to be true; Swatsland was mocking her pain.

With watery eyes and a beating heart, Tomako took gentle steps onto the charred foundation of her home. Nothing was recognizable. Even having lived here all her life, she couldn't possibly point to the living room nor the kitchen. Every room appeared the same—crisp and barren.

Her heart wanted to call out for Mother, even so with Father. She refused to waste the breath, knowing they were long gone. The flames that had been eating away at this house had long disappeared, hinting that the pillaging began shortly after her departure. The silver lining was that she herself evaded slavery, but the fact remained, she was alone, homeless, foodless, and with a sun going down.

The woman searched everywhere for anything; her father’s artwork, family heirlooms, religious icons, but it was all gone. There was almost no hope, but there remained one spark of possibility…

“Mother, Father!” she called.

It was a desperate but possible idea that her parents hid in the cellar. After all, the Swatslandic had forgotten to check the Tochowa cellar and what Tomako discovered in that instance was perfect preservation. Out of desperation, Tomako dropped her knees just before the hidden cellar door, like before, forcing her fingers under the charred wood and raising the floorboard.

“Father!”

The woman stuck her head in the cellar but found her hair falling in front of her eyes. Unfortunately, when she brushed the hair aside, she would find a licked clean cellar; undamaged, but clearly looted. Most importantly though, her parents were not down here. The simple reality was that the Swatslandic missed the Tochowa family’s cellar but not this one.

Speechless, the woman fell to her side and curled in despair. Her blackened palms came up to her face, thus getting her face dirtied up with ash as she shook her body around. Pity and regret took the young Angel by storm, she felt as though her Puritonist pot of honor had just been spilled all over the floor. It was her lifelong mission to serve her parents with grace, hard work, and unrivaled love. In the end, she allowed them to become slaves of the Swatslandic Empire and allowed the legendary Angel farm to go up in flames. As far as she was concerned, her entire life’s saving of honor burned along with the farm.

She murmured unintelligible words aloud while rocking herself back and forth like a child. No parents, no husband, no siblings; just a socially awkward woman isolated from society most of her life. An unspeakable burden fell upon her shoulders in this sense. Obvious questions came about as the sun prepared to set; such as where she would sleep, how she would eat, where to find her parents, what she could do to get them back, or even if they were still alive. One big tragedy, but so many problems to address all at once. She was in desperate need of an authority, be it her parents, a husband, or even her gods.

“B- B- But..!” Tomako stopped cradling herself to panic, “That man gave me his word we would be left alone!”

Standing back up, Tomako turned to the Swatslandic banner that mocked her. A rare sight came about as the typically calm and tame woman widened her eyes with slowly lowering brows and tightening eyes. The very thought that this banner had been stitched together in Svatpa for the sole purpose of mocking and robbing her penetrated her peaceful character. There were few things in life that could trigger Tomako’s inner demons; she valued peace and love, treasured honor as her second currency, even going as far as to try and coexist with the Swatslandic invaders. This was a cauldron of emotions not even she could suppress.

With a glare, snarl, and barred teeth, Tomako rushed at the banner like an enraged beast and took it into hold. She hoisted it from the ground with a red face and streaming eyes.

“May the dragons of the Underworld floss with your entrails!” She broke the wood staff over her knee, then reached down for the fabric to stomp on it, rip it, and toss pieces of it around. “I hate you!”

The point was made, yet she continued to tear pieces of the fabric into smaller pieces, doing so until there was nothing that could possibly hint at a Swatslandic banner. At this point, even Swatslandic men would be unlikely to identify the remains of their own banner.

Following this tantrum, the Imperyean collapsed into the red and black shreds to cover her face and weep, not only from what had happened on this day but also from giving into her anger. There was no satisfaction in this vandalism for her, few Imperyean women would satisfy themselves over destructive conduct and Tomako was no exception. It was a hideous and unattractive outburst from her point of view, made even worse knowing what had led to this outburst. The horse she rode here took a single step forward to face her, as if it knew there would be more riding to do.

Tomako's weeping was silent and hidden behind her hands but definitely existed. There was nothing left of her home, nothing of sentimental value past the terrain she sat over. A year from now, not even the charred remains of her house would remain; surely the Swatslandic would pick up the charred pieces.

With that in mind, Tomako was left with two hard choices. She could slay herself and die with her fallen home, otherwise, make some desperate effort to resolve the situation. Fortunately, the former did not cross her mind for even a second; if there was any chance at all of reversing the abduction of her parents, it was her honor-bound duty to try anything.

Clothing, a kimono dress, a large bag of coins, a saddle, and a borrowed merchant horse. This was all that destiny allowed her to keep. If it were up to the Swatslandic, they'd have taken these things as well, in addition to sending Tomako to Svatpa as a slave. For better or worse, she missed the abduction.

Her weeping persisted, though she soon removed her hands and took one final look at her home. The night was nearing and she hadn't eaten a single thing for almost a day. The dinner she had been hoping to have would never come, at least, not with her parents. She had one place in mind, perhaps the one and only possible place she could go at this point.

Without any motivation, Tomako mounted this same horse and turned back the way she came. Her face had become moist from tears but her face ultimately without expression as she tried to gather herself. She was tired, hungry, sad, and without clear direction in life. In this first chapter of horror she now lived in, her travels brought her back up the hill. Her back was turned to her home for the last time with her destination being, yet again, the shoreline village of Boshtang.

The trip to Boshtang lasted only a little over the usual two hours, despite it being late. This was one of the few times in Tomako's life where she traveled to the village at night, the only other occasions being rare instances where her father would require her help for a special event or for celebrating religious festivals. The sight of so many lights coming from the village was something to gawk over for someone like her; unfortunately, this was no time for her to enjoy the scenery. Otomo wouldn't expect to see her for many weeks, possibly even up to two months. Suffice to say, he would be very surprised to find her at his door on this night.

As if things were not bad enough, a drizzle had formed seconds into her arrival at Boshtang. On such a depressing day, she couldn't even be blessed with clear weather, which started to make her paranoid that this may all be part of some divine punishment for an unknown crime she committed. She spoke to the Swatslandic against her mother’s will, missed morning chores, and stole goods from their neighbor's destroyed farm. In her eyes, these were all dishonorable acts, but even she realized that abducted parents and a destroyed home were far too great a punishment for such small offenses. On the bright side, there were for once no giant hornets to bother her.

Tomako continued through the drizzling village with speed but immense exhaustion. The village of Boshtang remained lively even in the evening but with fewer carriages, less trade, and less Swatslandic guards. With all her endurance, Tomako tried to retain a face and attitude expected of an Imperyean woman. Everything had been taken from her, but panicking, shouting, or moping would not solve a thing. If anything, doing either of these things would prolong a resolution.

With a very gentle and caring hand, Tomako felt around the neck of her mount. “I'm proud of you. You've been walking a stranger around for hours, I know you’ve been putting your heart into this.” With a swallow, she looked to the sky and let the rain wash some of the ash from her face. “I wish I did not have to drag you into my predicament…”

As expected, Otomo's shack was closed off for the night. Regardless, she tied the horse to its hitching post and honored the creature with an admiring touch to the mane. The woman proceeded to the household but first stopped to stare at it for a moment. She couldn’t believe she was about to summon Otomo of all people at this time of day nor did she know what to say to him. She wasn’t even so sure Otomo could help her in any way, the simple truth was that Tomako feared this sudden and unexpected independence; she needed someone to tell her what to do. At the same time, a part of her wished to keep from burdening Otomo with her life issues, but there was little else to be done. The greedy ex-samurai was her only hope.

Without further thought, she beat her fist against his door five times. Her fist remained over the door as she became lost staring at the many droplets of water gathering over her hand. By now her entire body had been hit by rain, leaving her clothes dark, her hair dripping, and her body trembling from the cold. Worst of all, no one was answering the door.

*Otomo, please, please..!*

Setting aside her courteous nature, she again knocked, this time an inconsistent ten times. Again she kept her fist over the door, though her eyes became sadder as time passed. There was conflict in believing that Otomo could have already left Boshtang just hours after seeing him. The only justifiable explanation is that he could be asleep, something she prayed not to be the case.

With tightly closed eyes, Tomako squealed helplessly and let her emotions best her again. She knocked at an uncontrollable rate, loud, and erratically. Even Otomo’s neighbors were likely to hear this racket.

“*Alright already!*” Otomo croaked.

Tomako's heart plunged, both in relief and shame. She would never act in such a way unless it was an emergency, and even then, not always for emergencies either. If not for a place to rest, she would at the very least hope for a slice of bread to eat.

The door had opened, revealing a perturbed Otomo in sleeping wear. Holding a candle up in front of him, the man's disturbed face faded as he spotted a drenched Angel. At first, he couldn’t believe who was at his door, wondering if it was a dream or just some similar looking woman to Tomako. It was undeniably the Tomako he knew though. The woman faced him with shoulders down and a sad face.

“Tomako? Wha- What might you be doing in Boshtang at this time of day?”

Her response was delayed, for she had no idea how to begin her story. Either way, the story was hardly needed, Otomo could tell he would be preparing a bed for the woman. Still, he reached forward and touched her soaked sleeve.

“Tomako?” She said nothing but with great peril in her eyes. “Tomako, are you okay!? Were you mugged?” He squinted at her with a nervous frown. “…were you forced upon by someone? Please, what troubles you?”

With glossy eyes, she explained, “They took everything…”

Guessing with perfection, the thought of a Swatslandic banner came to the man’s mind. This was indeed all she had to say. The man knew who ‘they’ were and he understands what ‘everything’ was.

“Perhaps you should come inside and meditate over this.” He stepped back with an inviting hand inward. “Come in, come in. There is much to discuss…”

Tomako stepped into the structure with Otomo fast to close the door behind her. As he had declared, there would be much discussion to come, but more importantly, plans to establish. First thing was first, relaxing the traumatized woman was a must.

Minutes later, Tomako would become practically consumed by several blankets, cushions, and pillows covering all but the front of her face. It was basic Imperyean tradition to immobilize a woman with such extreme softness when in extreme discomfort, though this was a practice usually saved for newborn girls and pregnant women, but in rare cases like this also for great sorrow. Not since birth had she been given this treatment, but she could at least admit it was enjoyable having someone at this time of day go to such lengths to comfort her. To add to this, she feasted on vegetables and fish with immense satisfaction. Her faith in Otomo as a first response was placed well. During all of this, Otomo continued to light candles around the building with his tinderbox. Silence was the theme coming from Tomako as she ate in her many blankets and pillows.

After lighting the final candle, Otomo turned to face the woman. “May I get you some tea to soothe the soul?”

She closed her eyes in response, “With all due respect, I am in no mood for tea. But, thank you…”

“Wha—a!? No mood for tea!?” Tomako returned a somber nod. “Clearly, you are more depressed than I thought…”

“I fear I’ve no interest for the moment.”

“Tea relaxes the heart and brings out your emotions.”

Tomako turned her head away, “I've… expressed enough emotion today. But thank you.”

Otomo nodded, then made his way to the other side of the table. He too got on his knees despite having nothing to eat or drink. Tomako did not shy away from making eye contact.

“Do you need any more blankets?”

Tomako retracted her face, “Twelve is plenty enough. Thank you…”

Following this exchange, Tomako would continue to eat in blanketed comfort without anything of casual note to say. Otomo, although tired, was patient with waiting for her story. He couldn’t expect her to speak of such a horrifying manner so quickly. Given enough time to better compose herself, Tomako set down her plate.

“There wasn't a flame to be found when I returned home. The Swatslandic must have struck immediately after I left for Boshtang.” She shook her head in expanding disbelief. “Take our farm if it will boost their ego, I reluctantly accept such a cruel reality. But they cannot take my parents, they've made a dire mistake in doing so. Father is too overweight to continue working, Mother has neither the strength nor stamina to perform daily tasks. Under their guidance, I am the entire workforce. The Swatslandic want me, not them.”

“You have no idea how lucky you are to have missed their attack.”

“Lucky?” Tomako conceded some offended feelings, “I am lucky?”

He dared to nod, “Think about it, Tomako. We are told that Imperyean farmers are seized to work on their farms and *nothing else*, but just how much of that is true?” Tomako tried tilting her head but found that the blankets locked her head in place, for the most part. “For all we know, you may have avoided becoming a sex slave to some Svatpean soldier. The fact you evaded capture is a clear sign from the gods, a sign that you are destined for more than slavery. The gods have protected you from living a horrible life in Svatpa you do not deserve.”

The horrible possibility of the Swatslandic enforcing a type of pleasure servitude upon Imperyean women had Tomako fearing especially for her mother. For the sake of her own mind, Tomako became defiant to that idea.

“I refuse to accept this as a possibility!” she said while waddling in her blankets. “No human would enslave another human for means of lust. Their code of honor would not allow it.”

“Code of honor?” Otomo scoffed. “Svatpa is a very different place, with very different people, very different beliefs. They have no code of honor to live by, no... pot of honor, as we do.”

The woman blinked without emotion, “I still refuse to believe this. All humans are driven by the heart, that is, by the soul. Only those driven by the dark forces of evil will commit such acts on a woman.”

Otomo shrugged, “I mean not to offend you. The point I was moving towards is, well…” He pointed to her before closing his eyes. “You were not abducted alongside your parents for a reason. You're a magnificent woman with talents that go far beyond the common housewife. A woman such as yourself is living evidence of divinity. Your bizarre escape from slavery is furthermore nothing short of divine intervention.”

“You believe so?”

The man reached over the table in her direction, “You are a farmer no longer and you have escaped the treacherous burden that was your father.” He caught the rare glare on Tomako, but also the spell of sadness in her eyes. “Don't think I've forgotten the previous two decades of knowing you…” Her eyes quickly shifted away. “I still remember those days from childhood to adolescence, where you would come to me in tears. There were days you'd lay by my door and cry, tantrum, and shout, refusing to return home with your father.”

Tomako closed her eyes and dropped her head in shame. “Such memories are vague to me. Perhaps you are mistaking -”

“You would cry and beseech to the gods for the coming of a brother, more so, for the love and acceptance of your father that *never* came.” He rubbed his chin while beginning to hum. “It is unprofessional for a female to act in such a way. Some men would beat you for acting so undisciplined. Yet, I embraced you like a child. I gave you the attention your father refused.” He continued to stare at Tomako, who now refused to look back at him. “You cannot truthfully tell me that you’ve never just once prayed to be relieved of your father. I know you have, there is no way you haven’t. If so, destiny has done just that. You are free now, don't you see? Your future is now yours to command as the fruits of independence come into your hands.”

Tomako lowered her eyelids with nothing to say. She hadn't taken a single bite since the moment Otomo began. This discussion destroyed her appetite, for better or worse.

To the man’s surprise, Tomako’s eventual response would be to start unwrapping her blankets and pillows, cracking open the soft cocoon that held her in place. She did not acknowledge any of his words when standing up. This came off as slightly rude to the man, who watched as she even turned away from him in his own living room.

“I…” She discontinued, leaving it at this.

Otomo remained silent, but with her back turned, he quickly reached over and snatched a piece of fish from her plate. The piece of food was consumed quickly as he awaited a more complete response from her. Soon enough he got just that.

“The night is still young and the Swatslandic is likely still unpacking their loot,” she explained. “I must locate my parents before they leave the island. Where are they being held?”

The ex-samurai grit his teeth and grunted, then lectured, “Tomako! Don't be a fool. Your parents are gone and any attempt to free them will land you on a ship to Svatpa as well.”

She still refused to face him. “With all due respect, that was not an answer to my question. As it stands, my parents are still somewhere in Kushyrin. Where must I go to find them?”

At that moment, the entire room was shaken by the stomping of Otomo's foot, who fired up onto his feet.

“Child, you are being irrational!”

With a twitching brow, Tomako turned to face him and argued, “Mother and Father brought me into this world, and I've sworn to treat them the best I can. I am not acting irrationally, I am doing so from the heart and for my pot of honor.”

“A rational decision requires both a heart *and* brain!”

Tomako's lip trembled, “You… insult my honor?”

The man walked around the table and approached her, “I am merely trying to dissuade you from acting foolish. No one knows where these farmers are taken. They are likely taken to a port in Dayaking, and that island has many ports. Try as you may, you would never find them in time. I’m sorry.” Tomako lowered her head in shame. “Besides, the moment you identify yourself as an escapee, the Swatslandic will chain you up. You might not even be brought to Svatpa as a slave, you may simply be locked away in an Imperyean dungeon for evasion. A slave is a slave, they’re unlikely to make any effort in reuniting you with your parents, should you be captured.”

These points did damage Tomako's desire to go out searching, but an honor-bound commitment to care for her parents formed an unbreakable foundation. Otomo tried with all his might to break this foundation, knowing the best-case scenario was for her to cut her losses.

“They're gone, Tomako. The only way you'd see them again is if you made your way to Swatsland, all the way in Svatpa.” Tomako raised both her brows as he continued. “You are still young. Be grateful that you were spared, find a husband, and begin a career in horse training. Lessen this tragedy by caring for your own interests. Name your child after your father, name your horse organization after your mother; honor your parents but don’t let them drag you down with them.”

“Hm…” Tomako lowered her eyelids and nodded. “I understand what you’re saying…”

Otomo beamed, “How wonderful. I can start you off by working for me. Once you've gotten yourself into a better financial situation, you can look into starting a family away from here, or perhaps you and your future husband can attach this horse training operation you dream of to my own merchant business. Think about it, combining your idea of a horse business with my merchant business would make us one of the greatest in all of the Imperyeas. People would speak tales of our riches all over the world. You and your husband could enjoy a happy marriage with great wealth to support yourselves with.”

Tomako hummed, then continued, “If I *did* make my way to Swatsland, as you proposed, I could appropriate a meeting with their emperor. Surely, he would honor my hard effort by releasing my parents…”

“Wh- Wh- Wh- Wha-” Otomo grabbed his head with both hands. “Tomako—o, no—o..! That is not what I was proposing at a—all!”

Nonetheless, she clenched her fists and answered, “It will be difficult, but very much possible.” All at once, Tomako had come to see this as a reasonable plan. “That is what I must do to rescue my parents.”

“You are being unrealistic!” he shouted. “There exists no ship that will take you to Svatpa. Right now, only Swatsland has the means to do that. Your only option would be to embark on a journey from Krucifix to Swatsland—on foot.”

The claim caught her off guard, but still, she answered, “So be it.”

“Unspeakable risks and dangers await you on such a journey. What makes you believe an inexperienced farmgirl like yourself has any chance of survival?”

Full of zeal, the woman put a palm to her heart and answered, “The island gods will guide me…”

“No! They wo-” he stopped himself and let out a distressed hum, “You will be putting your life in greater danger than you can possibly imagine should you do this. Are you prepared to throw your life away trying to save your old parents?”

The woman began to walk away, “If I must.”

Otomo's eyes became large upon seeing the woman make for the door. It was late at night and she had no idea where she was going. Her intent was to simply walk out the door and embark on a walk across the world like some simple errand. He had to stop this.

Just as Tomako reached for the door, it had been struck by a knife. The woman gasped, jumped, and spun around. Otomo had a partially aggressive face.

“You could have killed me!” Tomako panicked.

“You are embarking on a *fool's quest*!”

Tomako, defiant in resolve, shook her head, “If there are no ships that will take me from here to Swatsland, I venture into Krucifix, then walk from there to Svatpa. That is a very possible quest and one I can likely perform in a few days, provided I keep moving.”

Otomo’s eyes spun, “A few days!? Wh- Wha- N- No! No! No! Tomako, no! Svatpa is far from here. *Very* far.” Tomako acknowledged this with a nod, but with some visible distress as well. “The expenses would be unheard of. The dangers too horrid to describe. The effort needed would go beyond human capability.” He struck her with narrow eyes. “You don't even have a weapon to protect yourself with!”

“I will best my foes with kind words and offerings.” Otomo dropped his arms. “Kindness is a virtue that can turn even the darkest of foes into a friend. If that fails, any person can become favorable with a kind offer, be it food, words, or money. I do not have to fight anyone, provided I settle all feuds through kind acts, but there will be no feuds since I am no troublemaker, as you know.”

“Idiot! That is not how this works!” His harsh criticism left Tomako frowning. “What you say would not work even here in honorable Imperyea. Out in Svatpa, or even mainland Shimua, criminals will not care to listen. They will take your life, among other things.”

Nonetheless, with a very strong stare, Tomako declared, “I shall be taking leave for Swatsland.”

Otomo grabbed his face and stepped to his side. “Stubborn… *stubborn..!*” With a few moments to think, he turned to face her again. “Why will you not heed my advice? You have always considered my words in the past. What has changed? Why do you not seek to protect your own life?”

“My family *is* my life, Otomo.” The man grunted and pocketed his hands. “Since I am without husband and children, my parents continue to make up my life.”

“W- Well, that can be changed! Let’s find you a lover!”

Tomako again turned to the door and sighed. Otomo stood with a shaking head, trying to mull over what he was hearing. With this, Tomako felt the wooden frame of his door and took a deep breath.

“I know my intention to journey into foreign lands is sudden and beyond ridiculous. But I feel that I must. If there exists a possibility to restore prosperity to the Angel family, I feel obligated to try anything.” Her eyes captured the knife that had been sent into the door to stop her. “I've heard you, and I understand if you oppose this. My parents are all I have, furthermore, if I fail to save them, I can bid farewell to the pot of honor I’ve spent my entire life filling.” With this, she opened the door and bowed. “I thank you for the decades of help, Otomo. But this may be the final time we meet. I pray I one day return here in peace with my family.”

“Tomako, wait.”

The woman remained still but continued to face away. Otomo continued to stand with his hands down in his pockets. With a distressed grin, he closed his eyes and shrugged.

“I won't try and stop you from embarking on this fool's quest. But I refuse to let you walk out that door without something.”

Curious, Tomako turned her head and slowly closed the door.

“What is it?”

Tomako was brought down the cellar, and behind almost a hundred barrels and bags of goods existed a door. There was no telling what she would find through this door, however, the fact Otomo brought his lighting tool along suggested that there may be a need for more than just one candle lighting. This is what led Tomako to theorize.

At first, it would appear as though Otomo had just opened a door leading to an empty abyss, but with the lighting of a single candle, it became clear enough to see that there existed something far greater in the belly of this house than one would guess. She wasn’t clear on what exactly she was witnessing; a large room, however, very empty.

While she remained by the door trying to make sense of this, Otomo busied himself with lighting more candles. The extra lighting is what was needed in order for her to identify a training room of sort. A non-combatant, Tomako had little to say.

“Otomo. What exactly...”

The woman couldn’t finish her question, for the former samurai returned to her now holding a long thin case. She put a very curious gaze upon the case, ultimately, reaching a conclusion on what this might be.

“I assume you are presenting me a knife?”

Otomo did not answer, instead saying, “You may be upset that I expect you to reside here with me for a while.”

Tomako twitched at the old man. “My parents will suffer every day that passes…”

“They’ll suffer more if their only child chokes to death on her own blood after failing to defend herself.”

With this said, he cracked open the locks on the case and slowly pushed it open. The woman was left in awe as a beautiful purple was presented to her. The scabbard that concealed the blade matched the purple hilt, the latter which also had a stylish gold pattern. At first glance, she couldn’t possibly imagine this blade had ever been used in a war.

“The final samurai sword I took hold of in the Swats-Imperyean War. It shares the purple soul of Kushyrin and being that it was crafted for the war against Swatslandic invaders, it is a sword designed to defend and rescue the Imperyean people. Fitting, as this is what you seek to do with your parents.” Otomo widened his eyes at the woman just as she did as well. “This is a special sword.”

At first, Tomako reached down to touch the weapon but refrained from doing so about a fingertip away. She froze her hand in place and looked up, blinking with a high level of superstitious paranoia.

“Special sword?”

“Indeed, the sword goes by the name…” he dropped his brows, “Err… um… let’s see here…” He looked between Tomako and the sword in a darting motion, then snapped his fingers. “Uh, this sword goes by the name… *EngelReise*. Yeah, that's it.”

“EngelReise?”

“Yes, EngelReise. The legendary blade of a now fallen samurai.” With watery eyes, he extended his arms, insisting that Tomako take the blade into her grasp. “EngelReise is like no other blade in existence.”

Tomako still refused to touch the sword. “How so?”

The man nodded, “Well…” An awkward silence occurred as Otomo closed his eyes and thought deeply for well over thirty seconds. “As… you may know… by the time of the Swats-Imperyean War, I had been promoted by the Imperyean Military to—o, hm… lead my own… vanguard in General… Isoroku… Katsuyori's army.” Tomako shook her head, unaware of this. “Yes, yes, that’s it. For that war, I had this sword bestowed upon me. With it, I was to cut the throats of a hundred invaders and leave them drowning in a sea of blood.” He closed his eyes and smirked. “I did not kill a single man by the end of the war. EngelReise was designed to paint the lands red with blood but never received a single drop of it.”

“No kills?”

“The Swatslandic destroyed us with their might and explosive ships. I had no chance to fight.”

She nodded, “This sword is special because it hasn't taken a life?”

“The sword had been refused blood. After the war, as I returned here, to Kushyrin, I realized why this was.” He looked Tomako deep in the eyes. “*EngelReise exists not to slaughter, but to protect.*”

“That is an excellent sword mandate.”

Finally, Tomako reached into the box and held the sword up with both hands. The blade remained hidden by the scabbard. The legendary blade was resonating with honor, tradition, and like her saddle was purple in representing her home island of Kushyrin. Tomako's humbled face showed that she understood that holding this sword was no gift, it was a privilege.

“I pass EngelReise onto you, for your fool's quest. Under one condition…” She looked up at him. “This sword, EngelReise, carries a soul of its own. It desires blood, yes, but more than anything it desires to *improve* life, not end it.” He pointed at her with a straight finger. “This sword should never be used for belligerence. You may kill with it, of course, but do not murder the innocent with it. EngelReise seeks to protect you against thieves, rapists, wildlife, and other enemies; not against those you simply dislike. Though I trust you of all people should have no problem honoring this commitment.”

Tomako bowed with the sword in both hands, “I understand, Otomo.”

He dropped the box onto the ground and proceeded to touch Tomako on the shoulder, “This is a mighty sacrifice I am making. With it, I need you to accept my request.” She silently awaited his terms. “I know you're upset, I know you're anxious to leave. But, please, I implore that you stay here with me for a time. I *must* teach you how to use this sword.”

Additional silence ensued as Tomako thought this over. Now presented with such a valuable item, she found herself considering the irrationality of her recent attitude. The idea of traveling to Swatsland seemed to be her sudden ambition, which she very much desired to get a quick start on. All the same, she understood that such a task would be horrendous if unprepared for. To survive such a trip, she would need to know how to hunt and defend herself, both of which would require basic swordplay knowledge.

Having come to her senses, Tomako bowed again, “I accept. Teach me the way of the sword as you know it, but I must then take leave.”

Otomo closed his eyes and sighed, but soon grinned. “Then by the gods, I will make a warrior woman of you…” He reopened his eyes and brought a fist up. “First, we start with how to wield a sword properly!”

Tomako, with enthusiasm, nodded and said, “Let's learn!”

There were some struggles along the way…

“Tomako! A katana is a two-handed weapon!”

Struggling to hold the sword in one hand, Tomako responded, “It is?”

And again…

“Tomako! You're holding the sword the wrong way!”

“I am?”

And yet again…

“Tomako! By the gods, you leave the scabbard by your waist!”

She grit her teeth, “Wh- What's a scabbard..?”

Fortunately, within minutes, training got on track as Tomako stood in the center of the arena with both hands over the hilt. She was motioning the sword left and right with simple hand turns, adapting to its weight and understanding the concept of control. Otomo oversaw the training from a very close distance.

“Good, now, your left hand holds the bottom; the right holds the top.” Tomako stared at him with a clueless expression, hesitantly putting the bottom of the hilt to her left palm while moving her right hand to the bottom of the blade. “No, no, no, no!” Tomako tried again without asking questions, this time holding the bottom of the hilt with her left and the upper part with the right. “Yes, and hold onto the sword with all your life. An opponent wishes for nothing more than to break your hold of it. One mistake is all you may get in a confrontation.”

“How cruel.”

“The katana is a powerful weapon. If an opponent's body is ever exposed, it can be severed with a powerful enough strike. For the most effective strikes, it is important you always keep a correct hold of your weapon. All landed attacks must be performed and executed as planned to work.”

“I understand.”

Otomo put himself to Tomako’s side with a sword of his own. He brought the sword over his head and behind his back, locked this position, then swung it over his head and down toward the floor. The attack was swift and accurate.

“A vertical swing. Straight, precise, and with immense force. If there were an opponent in front of me, he is likely dead or disarmed now, provided he is of lesser sword class.”

Tomako locked the sword behind her back as well, then mimicked what he did with a swift downward strike. This attack came off to her as perfect, and while Otomo was impressed, he also saw error.

“Not a bad attempt, but you tilted it once above your head.” He demonstrated another vertical strike, once more perfect in form and execution. “Try again.”

Later that same night, Tomako had been challenged to a beginner duel; that is, using only the three basic motions of *horizontal*, *vertical*, and *diagonal* swings. As to be expected, Tomako was far from mastering the three moves with her first obstacle being to keep the blade perfectly straight throughout the process. She had a tendency to break her accuracy mid-strike.

As of right now, Otomo was blocking her patterned attacks. Horizontal, vertical, and diagonal in that order and in repeat. Otomo easily demonstrated he could block every attack she made, thus nullifying the risk of being wounded.

He spoke during some attacks, “Mastery of these attacks does not come with knowledge alone.” Tomako remained concentrated and full of sweat. “You are indeed bright. But mastery requires knowledge and practice. Thousands of strikes later and you will still leave error. Anyone can kill; man, woman, child, elder. To end a life is simple; championing over a defending opponent, on the other hand, requires proficiency.”

With a strong vertical strike, Otomo's defense was shattered. Instinctively, he jumped back to evade real danger. Tomako raised her eyebrows in surprise, wondering if this was an intentional occurrence or literally a successful shattering of defense.

He acknowledged, “As I said, you are of a bright craft. The fact you cannot read or write amazes me for this reason.” He raised his sword back up and continued the practice engagement. She started off with another vertical swing. “Women are disadvantaged. Rarely can they best a male in a contest of brute force, and I see no exception with you.”

In an unexpected counter-attack, Otomo elbowed Tomako at the shoulder, knocking her down with little resistance. She looked up at the man with fright, easily intimidated by the simple takedown.

“Make no mistake. If you succumb to fatigue, most men will take you down with nothing more than a raw fist. If in battle with a trained Swatslandic knight, your sword will become everything to you.” He shrugged and shook his head. Tomako remained on the ground, dripping sweat onto the floor. “With your light body and lack of experience, I understand why you're melting. This is no easy feat you endeavor for.”

The man lowered his eyebrows in surprise as Tomako jumped back up to her feet and crossed her sword over his. Ultimately, he closed his eyes and chuckled.

“But perhaps your knowledge and determination give you an advantage? Maybe. Perhaps. Let us find out.”

After snapping his fingers, he entered a defensive stance once more as Tomako dealt many blows to him. Both were exhausted and sweating, yet Tomako showed no inconsistency with her swings. She continued the pattern at the same speed and with the same strength.

Otomo blocked each attack masterfully while gazing into her tired eyes. He admired her will to continue fighting rather than taking a break; however, to properly train her, he had to try and break her.

“Women like you are rare to come by. You can speak to horses just as well as you can with humans. Truth be told, you name the man, and you'll likely have him as a lover. A woman like you radiates with a destiny of riches. I admit it’s unfortunate you rather risk dying on a fool's quest.”

Tomako continued to strike, unharmed by this attack on her morale. Otomo chuckled after blocking another loop of attacks.

“Imperyea may not be a happy place to live nowadays, but it'll always be better than the taunting lands of Krucifix, or the frozen wasteland that is the *Land of the Free*. Would you rather risk running into a bandit instead of seeking guaranteed prosperity here? Your *old* parents warrant this kind of thinking?” Still no verbal or even a facial response from the woman. With a tempered expression, he blocked another vertical attack, then floored her with a punch to the shoulder. “Down.”

Before he could lay down his weapon for a break, Tomako rolled around him and jumped back up to fight. Now Otomo found himself with closed teeth. He accepted this continuation of the duel but was now very skeptical. It didn't matter how tired, hungry, or disturbed she was. Her attitude didn't change and there existed a sort of unbreakable resolve in her to keep fighting. This was a duel only suited for beginners, yet he was confused, nonetheless.

Otomo blocked an attack and spoke through his teeth, “Now, how are you still fighting?”

The seemingly never-ending amount of sparks continued to fly between the two. While not nearly as unfit as her father, Otomo was still a man of weight. There came a point where even he had a breaking point, despite a past as a samurai warrior. The look on Tomako’s face suggested that a threshold had been met and that her body begged for an end to the fight. Some sort of crazed determination blocked her from capitulating.

“You refuse to channel your anger into fighting. You refuse to respond to me while fighting.” He nodded at her with continuing blocks. “You are indeed brilliant. An opponent who talks too much is bound to collapse, eventually.”

Even with this compliment, the former samurai gave her a frustrated stare and took advantage of a vertical block, this time giving a simple shove to the floor. Otomo then lowered his sword to the floor by the tip, giving her a fluctuating glare, as if demanding that she stop now. Tomako, unfortunately for him, came right back up to her feet with a sword up. He widened his eyes with an almost insane look of humor, choosing to accept the continuation.

“So, there's just no stopping you, is what you're telling me?”

Otomo blocked each attack she threw at him but was now seeking a way to end this. He refused to accept defeat in a fight that used only beginner moves, for this would be both shameful and humiliating. Tomako was the inferior fighter even by beginner standards, clearly, but had a disturbing amount of stamina in her. With that said, Tomako was acting unpredictably. She appeared ready to resign from this fight, but for some reason couldn't be put to a stop. For all he knew, this could persist for many more minutes. The fighting had to end.

With a few more blocks, Otomo darted his eyes left and right, then put on a frightful smirk. As she locked back to make a quick diagonal swing, Otomo tilted his sword back a bit, which ultimately resulted in the tip of her blade hitting his shoulder.

Otomo grunted and Tomako gasped, the latter quickly drawing the tip away from his shoulder. Both backed away with the man toughing through the minor cut, and finally, sheathing his sword.

“Hm…”

Tomako was left grunting, “I- I…”

“Ah well. It was a slight error on my part. But, uh, since I've sustained an injury, we best call it a night.”

The woman sheathed her katana with a frown, “I didn't mean to hurt you..! I- I would never -”

Otomo was already putting out all the candles, eager to get away from all of this. “It is of only minor consequence. I'll be back at it with you by morning.” Facing away from her, he pocketed his hands and shook his head with a sigh. “So, I see you are very serious about this adventure you plan on having…” Tomako did not respond but was awaiting an inevitable point or argument from him. “Well, I'm going to stop trying to dissuade you, then. These coming days I'll just have to season you for the *real* dangers you'll encounter out there.” He looked back at her and winked. “If you find yourself bleeding to death in a Krucifixan forest, just don't say I didn't warn you.”

Tomako walked up by his side and nodded, “I hold nothing against you. But I will be counting on you to create a swordsman out of me, regardless of my gender and strength.”

The ex-samurai continued to grin at her, then pat her on the back while leading her out of the cellar. “Come, I'll show you to your room.”

The room she was presented with was of great quality by Imperyean standards. Secure walls, a cozy bed with legs, and contemporary Imperyean artwork. Among other things, a map of the known world was beside the door. Despite such a disheartening and exhausting night, Tomako found herself still standing.

The young woman stood with her sword while looking at the map. Her finger started on Imperyea, dragged up to Krucifix, then swiped all the way across the map to what she believed to be Svatpa. The distance from Imperyea to Svatpa, compared to her farm to Boshtang, is what finally left her trembling at the idea of this journey.

*Such a trek would take me through mountains, forests, snow, and more. Is this something I'm prepared to do..?*

Fears of failure were cast aside. With continuing determination, she turned to face the bed, then grasped the katana with both hands. On her first day with Otomo, she learned the most basic of moves—horizontal, vertical, and diagonal swings. With this, she knew at the very least how to catch prey out in the wild. In a combat situation, however, she would not live long. Tomako had every intention of leaving Imperyea within days, though she still had to come to terms with the reality that more practice was needed. Not just sword knowledge, but more knowledge on survival as well.

As Otomo slept, Tomako continued to swing her sword in a choreographed manner against thin air. She did this for almost an hour, despite her exhaustion and sorrow. Each time exhaustion got to her, she would stop to look at the map some more. The woman was obsessed with her newly founded mission. As soon as the exhaustion became unbearable, she sheathed her sword, stripped herself of clothing, put out the room's candle, and got in bed.

Still, she remained conscious while gazing at the bedroom ceiling in the dark. There was a feeling of great relief knowing that not only did she retain a bed through this horrid experience, but it was a comfortable bed as well. It was to be enjoyed, for soon, she would be resting in a different location with every passing day, most of which would not have her in a bed.

With passing minutes, the woman rolled to her side while holding her head. Through her constant worrying and planning, she did come to ponder about something.

A brow was raised, “Whose room is this intended for..?” she questioned aloud.

Otomo lived alone, but he did not purchase this home, he built it himself. For reasons he hadn't explained, this house contained two bedrooms. This one was fit for a single person as if destiny had designed this room just for this day.

Such questions were set aside by Tomako, for she had more personal issues in mind. Thus, closing her eyes, at last, she accepted that the following morning would not come with her mother's pleasant greeting and father's abrupt shouting. With no one left to control her, she had a destiny of her own to now lead, and it would not be an easy one in any sense.

To be continued...

**Chapter 2 < | > Chapter 4**

## Author Notes

#### 'EngelReise'

It was in this chapter that I decided to have Otomo name the sword he was entrusting in Tomako's care, 'EngelReise,' as up until this time the story's name had no in-universe connection. I made this decision partly due to an implied new interpretation of the story that despite the story being written in English, the characters are in actuality speaking a language unique to their world. With this in mind, it could be assumed that the German name 'EngelReise' in reality is called something different in the story's in-universe language.

## Chapter Illustration

This illustration attempts a style that shows two separate moments in time: 1. The moment Tomako watches the Swatslandic banner planted over her burned down home. 2. The moment she receives her sword--EngelReise. This is an artistic strategy that would occur multiple times throughout the story, often the result of not knowing which scene should be turned into an illustration.