Arc XIII Chapter 13
XIII
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Arc XIII Chapter 13
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“... ... ...” The old man yielded at last. His head slumped, and his shoulder deflated. His will, his hopes, his resistance had been finally broken. “Yes, honourable Magistrate, ... we understood. We will do ... as our lord commands.” The man gritted his teeth. His words pained him. He knew only too well what they meant for the village. Everyone did.
A profound silence overcame the by standing villagers, their muttering long since having died down. A mother clutched her small child. Other men simply stared at the ground, their gazes empty and soulless. But not everyone looked that way.
The magistrate merely nodded, a smirk on his lips. The man was satisfied with his performance. “I suppose, this settles the matter. I believe that it is time for us to leave ...”
A boy emerged from the crowd, storming ahead, his fists clenched, his eyes blazing with anger.
“No, Genta! No! Don’t!” his mother cried out to him, but her efforts were in vain. The boy refused to listen. He was a man on a mission. It was far too late for him to back down.
The boy planted himself right in front of the magistrate, a snarl on his face. “Hey! Ya! Ya greedy bastard! Have ya damn cowards nothin’ betta ta do all day than stealin’ our rice? Fatha was right, ya arseholes are all just fuckin’ thieves! All of ye!”
The magistrate narrowed his eyes, enraged, furious. The man clenched his fan. “Watch your tongue, boy!”
“Or fuckin’ what?” the boy retorted, snarling. His desperation gave him courage that he needed. He was the voice of the village, of what had remained unsaid. “Wot’re ya gonna do? Are ya gonna kill me? Come on, do it, kill me, ya bastards.” The boy stretched out his arms.
“My ma broke ’er back in those damn fields. Ma little sis’s been eating watery gruel for weeks. Ma fatha is sick an barely alive. Now, ya come in hyer an wanna take everythin’ from us.
Ya bastards want us all ta die anyway, don’t ya? So, wot’ve I got ta lose? Wot’s the difference between killin’ us now an lettin’ us die from empty stomachs later?”
...
... ...
... ... ...
His tirade had silenced everyone. No one dared to move. No one dared to speak. And yet the magistrate remained utterly unmoved, his heart colder than ice.
The man raised his fan, his eyes studying the boy like an exotic specimen. “Guards ... seize him.” His men complied and the ninja vanished.
“Wot ...” The boy barely understood what happened to him.
The ninja appeared beside him, quickly overwhelming the boy. Three men grabbed his arms and legs. They pushed his body downwards, restraining him. An elbow pressed his head against the ground, rendering him unable to move.
“Dammit”, the boy cursed. “Ya bastards, get off from me! Let me go!”
The magistrate chuckled, his eyes glistering with evil glee. “Do not worry, boy, I will let you go. But first, you will be taught proper respect and discipline. A child of your age should know that you must respect your elders and betters. Even then, in consideration of your age, I will be merciful. One hundred strikes! That will be your punishment.”
“...” Concern overcame Yuki. One hundred strikes ... The boy was brave, but he was young. His body was stunted, malnourished, weak, barely strong enough for his age ... And now the boy was meant to endure one hundred strikes ...
The headman paled, silent until now. He lowered his head once more. “But honourable Magistrate, one hundred strikes ... Genta ... He’s just a child. You must show mercy. He didn’t know what he was saying ...”
“Silence, Headman!” The magistrate clicked his tongue, visibly irritated. “Or do you perhaps intend to question my order? Do I need to remind you of what it means to obey; Headman?”
The headman did not respond. “... ... ...” He clenched his fists and bit his lip. How desperately he wanted to speak. How desperately he wanted to shout. And yet he could not as he was powerless.
The magistrate continued, “The boy has spoken like a man. Now he must also bear the consequences like a man. He has gravely insulted a magistrate, one who speaks on behalf of the daimyo. Such is a grave insult to the authority of the daimyo of himself and must be punished accordingly.” He turned to the ninja. “Now, perform your duties.”
The ninja nodded. “Hai!”
The ninja dragged the boy off, setting him up directly in front of the crowd, in front of the village, his eyes facing the villagers. The ninja lifted the boy’s arms and forced him to bend forwards with his head lowered. They ripped his rags off. His naked back was now fully exposed.
A samurai stepped forwards, moving closer. His lacquered armour shimmered in the sunlight, the black varnish gleaming. The man was strong, bulky, and muscular, his knuckles thick and calloused. Years of training and practice had hardened the man. His hands carried a thick, heavy bamboo rod.
The samurai loomed over the boy, standing directly above him. Both of his hands gripped the bamboo rod. He raised it high, holding it above his head, prepared to strike. He aimed for the boy’s lower back.
The boy gritted his teeth, defiant. He knew his fate. “Come on, bring it on, ya bastards!!! Wot’re ya watin’ fer?”
The samurai raised his voice, “One!” The bamboo rod swept downwards. It landed, the strike sharp, brutal, merciless, ruthless. The rod struck the boy with full force, his bones protesting under the weight of the blow. They would crack. They would break.
“AARGHH!!!” the boy gasped, his entire body writhing in pain. His cry echoed across the yard. His shoulders jerked, and his legs trembled. All while the villagers stood by and watched. What were they supposed to do? Fear had gripped them.
“...” The boy clenched his jaw, determined to fight on. Even then, how long would he be able to endure? How long before they would break the boy?
The samurai raised the bamboo rod once more. “Two!” The rod fell.
“AARGHH!!!”
“Three!”
“AARGHH!!!”
“... ... ...” Yuki clenched her tiny fists and clutched her Katsuki tightly. So, this was the true face of the world, of an order which the hidden villages had been so eager to enforce ever since their foundation. The daimyo promised wealth, status, and power. In return, the villages offered their loyalty and service. In the end, it was as Nee-san had said, that right, as the world went, was only in question between equals in power. While the strong did as they wanted, the weak suffered what they must.
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