Chapter 2: Silver Soul (Era of the Purge)

Watching as everyone stepped back in an orderly fashion, Okakura Take's lips twitched. Aota Taro rushed over, squatting beside his uncle with excitement. "Uncle, I brought Take here. She’s strong—she’ll definitely get you out."

His uncle nodded and lay back down.

At first, the octopus-headed man had been startled too, but when he looked closely and saw the child’s shadow on the ground, his heart settled. However, when he saw the child gripping his car, anger flared in him.

"You little brat, what do you think you’re doing? Put my car down right now!" he shouted, rushing forward in alarm.

Okakura Take raised her head and replied coldly, "I’m helping you lift your car."

Seeing her terrifying face and the strength with which she lifted the front of the car single-handedly, the octopus-headed man’s courage evaporated. He forced a smile. "Thank you, please, take your time."

Take turned away and lifted the car a bit higher, carrying it forward a few steps, moving it down from the cart. She walked to the side and released her grip. The car crashed down, sending up a cloud of yellow dust.

The octopus-headed man scrambled into his car and sped away.

"Well done, Take," her father came over, patting her on the head.

Meanwhile, the villagers clustered around Taro’s uncle.

"Thank goodness there was straw on the cart. If it had been wood or something else, he could’ve been crushed."

"Even with just straw, it’s dangerous—you saw how big that car is. Even the front alone is heavy."

"Exactly, exactly."

Everyone chimed in as they helped Taro’s uncle up and onto the cart. Some villagers accompanied him to the hospital. Before leaving, Aota Taro came over to thank Take once again.

"Take, I really can’t thank you enough," he said, bowing deeply to her.

"It’s nothing. Take your uncle to the hospital—don’t waste any time," Take replied.

"Alright. When I get back, I’ll bring you a thank-you gift. Okakura-san, Take, I’ll be off." Taro waved and ran toward the cart, joining the others to push it away.

The remaining villagers exchanged a few words with Take’s father before heading back to the village, leaving father and daughter alone, trailing behind.

The two of them wore matching earth-gray clothes and identical wooden clogs. Okakura Papa held his daughter’s hand as they strolled slowly along the road.

"Papa, the villagers hate me, so why do you always have me help them?" Take looked up at her father, confusion shining in her wide white eyes. She knew her appearance was frightening and that the villagers feared and disliked her, gossiping behind her back. She also knew her strength was unmatched in the village, stronger than any grown man. So whenever they needed her help, they would come to her with forced smiles, only to speak ill of her once they no longer needed her.

She really hated those people—truly hated them. Yet her father always told her to endure.

A large hand ruffled her hair, making her soft black locks messy.

"They’re just words," he said. "In this world, there’s softness overcoming strength, and violence countered with violence. If they wrong you, you must still put yourself in the right place, walk the right path, not the crooked one. We samurai must stand tall, chest out, and walk straight ahead."

"I don’t get it," she muttered. "All I know is, if they bully me, I want to hit back. If not for you, Papa, I’d ignore them all!"

"In time you’ll understand, my good girl."

"So understanding means I’ll always have to put up with them? Papa, you can’t even wear your sword openly now. Didn’t they say samurai are no longer needed in this society?" Take looked at his waist—she’d caught him, more than once, tucking a long katana at his side, the wakizashi at the other, standing straight and proud as if about to stride forward. She’d asked her mother about it, and her mother had just sighed, "Your father, that stubborn fool, can’t let go of the past."

"Once a samurai, always true to bushido," her father said. "Even if there’s no one left but himself, a samurai must stand upright!"

Under the setting sun, the light reflected in her father’s eyes was etched deeply in her memory for years to come—the light of conviction.

Her father had been a samurai and, even now, remained one. Only death could end his devotion to bushido.

After that day, Take became fascinated by her father’s steadfast belief in the way of the samurai. She pestered him to teach her swordsmanship, and after much persistence, he finally agreed.

Okakura Mama nearly wept at how rough her daughter was becoming. After all the trouble of having a girl, she’d turned out to love swords and martial arts. In the end, she dragged Take’s cousin, Narumi, over to learn weaving, the tea ceremony, and cooking with her instead. Narumi’s parents had died when she was four, and the Okakura couple had taken her in, raising both girls as their own. Narumi was still a bit afraid of her frightening-looking cousin, even though Take was kind to her. She was timid by nature, and just seeing her cousin’s face made her shudder.

"You have to use skill here, not just brute force!" her father admonished.

In the backyard, Take wielded a wooden sword, bringing it down hard on the straw man her father had set up.

With a single swipe, she scattered the straw target.

Her father shook his head and sighed. "You’ve got the force and presence, but you lack adaptability. You charge forward like a bull."

Take glanced at the wooden sword in her hand. It didn’t feel nearly as satisfying as smashing a brick.

"Take, you have a natural talent. Your physical strength is incredible. Honestly, even in Kyoto, I never saw a child born with such power. I’m proud of you. Don’t waste your gifts—you have to work even harder now. You’ve made your choice; see it through."

"I understand." Take was the type who bent under kindness, not force. If her father had ordered her, she would have dropped the sword and left. But when he spoke gently, she couldn’t bear to disappoint him.

"Now, try splitting this log. Remember—be flexible."

"Yes!" Take gripped the wooden sword, held her breath, gathered her focus, and brought it down on the log with skill. The log split into several pieces, each with a smooth, clean cut.

In that instant, she felt the thrill of the blade slicing through wood, the exhilaration of sharp force destroying all in its path.

"You really are my daughter! Just a few weeks and you’ve improved so much—Papa is so happy!" he beamed, clapping her on the shoulder.

"Alright, you two—wipe your sweat and come eat watermelon!" came a voice.

They turned to see Okakura Mama leaning against the wooden door, smirking. "You’re both turning into blocks of wood—getting rougher by the day."

She walked over, handkerchief in hand, and wiped the sweat from Take’s brow. "Such a pretty girl, always doing these things. If you keep this up, you’ll lose all your feminine charm." Take flushed. She knew all parents found their children adorable, but her mother’s endless praise always made her uncomfortable.

When she’d finished with Take, Okakura Mama tossed the handkerchief at her husband’s face. "Wipe your own sweat! It’s bad enough you’re so rough, but now you’re dragging your daughter down with you."

Okakura Papa just laughed, taking the cloth and wiping his face. "Don’t be upset, Tamaki. Let Take learn swordsmanship for a couple of years, just enough to protect herself, then I’ll give her back to you. Then you can teach her all the things a girl should know. Together we’ll raise her well."

"Hmph, you and your sweet talk—come on, let’s eat watermelon." She took Take’s hand and led her off, with Papa trailing behind, beaming at the sight of his wife and daughter. He felt utterly content. A beautiful wife to share his bed, a loving daughter to learn the sword—life couldn’t be more wonderful!

What? They say his daughter’s ugly? Nonsense! As his wife always said, their daughter would always be his little darling.

Inside, Narumi sat at the table, eyeing the watermelon longingly. Once the three of them were seated, they all dug in, eating with delight.

"Mmm, this watermelon is so sweet," Take said after taking a bite. The flesh was crisp, the juice icy and honeyed.

"It’s from Taro next door. He brought loads, and some vegetables too, to thank you for saving his uncle," her mother explained.

Take looked down at the watermelon in her hands, then at her father, recalling his words from that day. Suddenly, something clicked for her—ah! Helping people means getting free food (wait, that’s not right!). Still, she decided she’d help more people who looked like they might give her things to eat.

"So that’s it. Taro’s a good kid," her father said around a mouthful of watermelon.

Afterwards, her parents went inside for a nap, Narumi ran off to play with friends in the village, and Take strolled out in her clogs, enjoying her free time.

She and Narumi both attended secondary school in a town far from the village, but now it was summer, and they could play as much as they liked. The main reason the Okakura family was so poor was that they were supporting the tuition for both girls.

Take remembered hating school as a child—the other children were all afraid of her. Whenever she appeared, teachers and classmates trembled. Once, she told her father she didn’t want to go anymore. That was the only time he’d ever struck her, slapping her across the face. But right after, he burst into tears, hugging her tightly. "You must study hard," he sobbed. "When you grow up, life will be so much easier."

She didn’t understand what studying had to do with an easy life, but seeing her father so heartbroken, she felt sad herself. She decided to return to school, to keep traumatizing her teachers and classmates. That way, maybe when they watched horror movies, they’d remember her and not be scared—how thoughtful of her.

Actually, her father was wrong—she did know how to adapt. Heh.