Chapter 4: Gintama (Era of Expulsion)

The next day, Mr. Okakura left. Mrs. Okakura stayed home, sulking. Take and Satomi walked him to the village path; in the morning mist, Mr. Okakura waved goodbye, his figure gradually fading into the haze.

Returning home, Take found her mother sitting by the window, lost in thought.

Tamaki stared blankly at the emptiness. She had woken the moment he left, but she dared not see him off, afraid she would cling to him and not let go. All these years, she had known his soul was like a blade—sharp and true. Once drawn, it would never return to its sheath. Now that blade had been unleashed, and he was gone. She was the one left to meet the bare edge with empty hands; when the blade returned, it left her slashed and bleeding.

Take did not disturb her mother. She went back to her own room and saw an envelope resting atop the wooden cabinet.

She picked it up and saw it was a letter from her father, his upright handwriting clear on the white envelope.

She opened the envelope and unfolded the letter.

(To My Good Daughter:

Sweetheart, by the time you read this, I should already be gone. There are so many things I want to say to you, but I can never seem to find the words; my thoughts stall before I can write them down.

For eleven years, I have watched you grow, witnessed your understanding deepen bit by bit. It has been a joyful journey, seeing you change from a tiny infant into a graceful young lady (Take, I hear your protest: “Dad, are you sure I’m graceful?”). Growing up truly is a wonder.

You have always been strong, a gift from heaven. I hope you will use that strength well. Even when I am not around, you must keep practicing kendo diligently. Do you remember the rules I taught you?

Practice earnestly, strive for perfection; remain humble and cautious, do not become arrogant or impatient.

This applies not only to kendo, but to life itself. I know you are a good child. Remember: cherish and respect your elders and family, be protective and gentle to those younger than you, treat everyone with courtesy regardless of age. True poise must come from the heart, or it will be seen as hypocrisy. Respect your teachers, but never flatter.

I hope that, no matter what hardships you face, you can always hold true to yourself; however many times you are bent, you will always stand straight again. Do you remember what I once told you? Walk the right path, never the crooked one.

And about your mother: I am entrusting her to you, my dear. Keep her company, take good care of Satomi. I’m sorry to put so much on your shoulders. You have been strong since you were little. I have rarely seen you cry. Seeing you weeping in the backyard today, I wanted to pound myself flat. How could I make my precious daughter cry like that? I’m sorry, but I still have to go. By now, you’re probably calling me a bastard of a father, aren’t you?

Now, this bastard father says to you: if—I do not return...

Urge your mother to find a good man, someone worthy of her. She is a wonderful woman, and has suffered so many hard years with me. If I am gone, life will be too hard for her alone. Please persuade her to find someone who will truly cherish her.

I hope you will grow up healthy and happy, and one day find someone who loves you, so you may live a happy life together.

Goodbye, my darling.

Okakura Takehiko

Night of July 15th)

Tears fell one by one onto the snow-white letter, blurring the ink. Take clutched the letter to her chest, tilted her head back, and sobbed uncontrollably.

Her father truly was a bastard!

He had pinky-promised her just last night that he would return, so why did he now write in his letter that if he never came back, she should persuade her mother to remarry?

He promised to come back! Didn’t he say he would return?! Why say such things?!

“Papa, Papa…” Take sobbed until she could barely breathe.

It was her first taste of the pain of separation—so sour, so sharp. She had grown used to having him by her side, his presence as natural as breathing, but now he was gone. All that remained was an endless, aching loneliness for those left behind.

“We promised you’d come back. I’ll wait for you, Papa…”

Clutching the envelope, Take, with tears streaming down her face, drifted into sleep.

--------------------------------------------------

Five days later came the summer festival, but this time, her parents were not there to take her around. With her father gone, only her mother, she, and Satomi remained. Together, the three of them walked to the shrine, where crowds had already gathered.

It was so dull.

What she once found fascinating now seemed utterly boring. Take listlessly chewed on a box of takoyaki, uninterested in the shooting gallery, the goldfish scooping, or the ring toss. Only the food could bring her any spirit.

She glanced over: her mother was helping Satomi at the goldfish stall. They had tried for a long time, a pile of broken scoops at their feet. Clearly, neither had a knack for it—not that it mattered much.

Take sighed and walked over, patting her mother’s shoulder.

“Mom, let me try.”

“Alright, my clever girl! You’re the best,” her mother said, handing her the scoop.

Take crouched down, adjusting the cat-face mask on her face, and focused on the goldfish gliding in the clear water.

Under the lights, the orange-red fish swam lazily, the surface shimmering with reflected light. Her mother and Satomi watched her with nervous anticipation.

Swish—

Take made her move.

With a deft motion, she scooped up a goldfish and dropped it quickly into a porcelain bowl, where it darted about.

“Cousin, you’re amazing!” Satomi’s eyes sparkled as she stared at Take. Take patted her head and handed her the goldfish. Satomi jumped up and down in delight, holding her prize.

“Auntie, can we keep her in the water tank at home?” Satomi asked, holding the fish up for Mrs. Okakura to see.

“Of course, but you’ll have to change her water often,” Mrs. Okakura replied with a smile.

“I will!” Satomi nodded eagerly, her eyes fixed on the goldfish in her hand.

When the fireworks ended, so did the festival. Take was a little disappointed—she had so looked forward to it, yet felt no joy at all. She sighed.

Suddenly, someone took her hand. She looked up to see her mother gazing down at her with gentle eyes.

“Take, let’s go home.”

In the moonlight, her mother looked even more beautiful. Take stared at her in a daze, unconsciously tightening her grip on her mother’s hand.

“Take, Satomi, your hands are both so cold. You girls need to eat less ice—cold bodies aren’t good for young ladies,” Mrs. Okakura said, holding both their hands as they walked home together.

In the silvery moonlight, their shadows stretched longer and longer.

The road home seemed to lengthen endlessly.

The festival was over, and with it, the brief summer holiday. Take returned to school, to torment her teachers and classmates once again.

When the alarm rang, Take got up, washed, and put on her uniform.

These days, the uniforms had been updated to sailor suits: a blue collar and a light, fluttering skirt. Most girls looked adorable in them, but on Take the effect was terrifying—standing at school, she resembled a ghost straight out of a campus horror story.

Since her father left, her mother had taken over the cooking. Though not as skilled as Mr. Okakura, her food was still edible.

After breakfast, with her lunchbox in hand, Take set out with Satomi. At the crossroads, they parted ways: Satomi went to meet friends in the village, while Take walked alone to school.

School life was dull, a monotonous routine between two points. Girls her age chirped all day about gossip, boys fooled around incessantly. It was an ordinary school life—except that Take was a legend within it.

From her very first day, she caused a sensation—children and even adults screamed at the sight of her. Even as people grew used to her presence, many still shuddered when they saw her face. Even Satomi, who had lived with her for years, sometimes still flinched.

Imagine: you walk into the classroom and take your seat, then realize you’ve forgotten your pencil case. You turn to ask the person behind you, only to find Kayako staring at you with a ghostly gaze… Anyone’s heart would skip a beat!

Because she scared so many classmates upon entering school, Take always sat in the last row; no one in the class dared look back, convinced a chill always lurked behind them.

So that was what Take was at school—a presence impossible to ignore, yet no one dared befriend her. She was always alone.

Another dull school day ended. As soon as the dismissal bell rang, Take had already packed her bag. The moment the teacher finished, she was the first out the door, always a member of the “go-home club.”

At dinner, Mrs. Okakura handed Take a basket. Take, lifting her head from her bowl, saw her mother’s eyes shining with hope.

“Take~” Her mother blinked. “Tomorrow’s the weekend, and we had some rain a few days ago.”

So?

Take’s eyes asked.

Mrs. Okakura placed both hands on her daughter’s shoulders. “Will you go up the mountain and pick mushrooms for me? You’re the best at finding them.”

“And you?”

“I need to do a major cleaning at home tomorrow.” She shook Take’s arm. “Please, darling, I know you’re the best. The mushrooms you bring back are always so fragrant. I’ve been craving them so much lately…”

“Fine, stop shaking me, let me eat,” Take grumbled, pulling her arm free. Then she turned to Satomi: “Want to come with me?”

Satomi shook her head.

“I’ve already promised Katsuda and the others I’d join them for extra lessons tomorrow.”

Take shrugged. It seemed she’d have to go by herself. It had been a while since she’d gone up the mountain; perhaps it would be good to have a look around.

——————————————————————————————

After lunch the next day, Take set out, wearing a hat and carrying the bamboo basket, her mother watching her with hopeful eyes.

She looked up at the sky: blazing sun, blue sky, and white clouds—a perfect day. Her resentment at being sent out faded a little as she slipped on her sandals and headed for the hills behind the village.

The hills lay to the east, not high but many, a chain of emerald peaks stretching unbroken. There was a large reservoir on the mountain, but lately the water was being released and children were forbidden to play there.

Take had heard that deep in the forest there was a cave filled with corpses, and that the stench of blood had attracted all sorts of creatures—wild beasts, and things less easily named. She suspected it was just a story adults told to scare children. She’d never found such a cave herself.

But none of that mattered now—today’s mission was mushrooms! Onward!

They say autumn sunlight is warm and mushrooms after rain are especially tender—Take could confirm both now. The mountains were silent, deserted. The ground was thick with fallen leaves, hiding the earth beneath. The cool mountain breeze was invigorating.

Take wandered through the woods with her basket, peeling back leaves and digging through the soil. Soon, she’d gathered a bounty of fresh mushrooms. Most villagers stuck to the hills nearest the village, but Take preferred the deeper forest—the wild mushrooms there were tastier, and luck had always been with her. Aside from a few harmless snakes, she had never run into any wild animals.

With her basket full, Take stopped, shook the mushrooms into place, and judged there was enough for three people.

With her task nearly done, she decided to rest. She gathered large leaves, laid them out on the ground, and sprawled out.

No bratty kids to bother her here, she thought, swinging her legs idly.

The rain from the past days had left the earth with a fresh scent. Sunlight filtered through the green leaves, warm on her eyelids. Watching the sun, her eyes slowly closed.

zzzzzz……………………………………

When she awoke, the sun was already halfway down.

“Oh no, it’s so late!” Take exclaimed, scrambling to her feet. She brushed off the dust, shouldered her basket, and hurried down the mountain.

By the time she reached the foot of the hill, the sun had set completely, the sky tinged with purple, a few stars already blinking into view.

Adjusting the basket straps, she hurried toward the village. But as she reached the village path, she sensed something was wrong.

Normally, by this time, many houses would already be lit up for dinner. But tonight, there was an odd, uneasy silence. The sense of dread grew within her as she ran toward the village.

At the entrance, she stopped dead. She stood rigid, her eyes wide as saucers, bloodshot veins creeping across the whites.

Her eyes had beheld hell.