Of Poise & Angry Men

“Where is he!” A hulking silhouette appeared in the entrance of the tiny soba shop. A smaller figure rushed over, speaking in hushed, soothing tones. “What do I care, weasley little rodent. Is he here, or isn’t he?” A few more quiet protestations and the brute shoved the smaller man aside. He took a step into the shop and looked around, measuring up each of the patrons before addressing them collectively. “Here’s how this is gonna work,” he said. “One of you is the Marshall. You’re gonna fess up or someone else is gonna rat you out, ‘cause if you don’t…” The brute looked down next to him. A man sat on his knees at a low-slung table, looking into his noodles, shaking. The brute chuckled, bent down, grabbed the bowl, held it up for all to see, then sent it flying into the wall, shattering into a thousand pieces. “I’m gonna tear this whole place apart. Understand?” A slurping sound from the back of the room caught everyone’s attention – an older man, perhaps in his sixties, gulping down a mouthful of noodles. The brute grinned. “You got a lot o’ brass on you, old timer. You the Marshall?”

The old man lowered his bowl, nodding. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and turned to face the brute, though he didn’t get up. “My name is Rillo Mar,” he said. “I am the Marshall. You must be the fabled Tanzo I’ve been hearing so much about.” He held out a hand, gesturing to the empty space across the table. “Come, sit. We’ll talk and enjoy some noodles. It’ll be my treat. No need for all this fuss, I assure you.”

Tanzo grunted. He moved to the back of the room and stood over Rillo Mar’s table. He nodded toward the entrance. “Time to go, old man. We don’t need you here, and we don’t want you here.”

“Oh, I couldn’t. I’ve only just arrived,” the Marshall replied. “I’ve been travelling for ages, you see. I’m tired. You wouldn’t begrudge an old man his rest before sending him back to the road?”

For a moment, there was only utter silent. All eyes rested on the pair in the back; few dared to breathe. The wet slap of noodles hitting the floor after unsticking from the wall broke the stillness. Tanzo squatted down next to the Marshall. “I would,” he said. “Last chance, old man. Get up. Now.”

The Marshall smiled. He grabbed the tiny cup of green tea beside and shot it back. “Good for the body,” he said, resting it back on the table. He held up a hand, waving to the cook. “Two more bowls, please.”

Tanzo sighed, “Have it your way.” In one fluid motion, Tanzo stood and, roaring, sent the table tumbling several feet toward the back of the shop. “Let’s go!” He cried, looming over the unmoved Marshall. “I said out!” He reached down and hoisted Rillo Mar to his feet. The remaining patrons watched in horror as the elder Marshall hardly reacted to the impending attack. Tanzo held the Marshall by the robes and brought back a fist. “Fight back, old man!”

“I really mustn’t,” the Marshall replied, placing his hand over Tanzo’s.

“I said –” The brute collapsed into a heap, hitting the ground with a thunderous thud.

“Well.” Rillo Mar brushed out the wrinkles in his robe. He sighed. “Oh, Hanji.” The small man from the door came rushing over. “Terribly sorry about the mess,” he said. “I could’ve stopped him at any time. I thought we might try talking it out. Oh well; lesson learned. I’ll pay you for that, and of course I’ll help you clean.”

“That won’t be necessary, Marshall.” Without moving his head, the little man looked down at the incapacitated Tanzo.

Rillo Mar smirked. “He’s alive,” he said. “Down and out for now, but alive. He won’t be a problem for you anymore, I promise.”

“How!”

“The explanation is more trouble than it’s worth,” he replied. “The results speak for themselves, though. Come. I’ll need a mule; a horse would do better if you can spare one. Oh, and if you don’t mind, I’ll also need some help lifting our friend onto its back.”

“Right away, Marshall.” Hanji snapped his fingers and two boys came over, both in their teenage years. Hanji and the Marshall each grabbed Tanzo under the armpit and, with the help of the two boys, managed to lift the massive, muscular man, drape his arm over their shoulders, and start dragging him to the street.

As they approached the front of the shop, a woman rushed over and threw herself to the ground below the Marshall. She wept and kissed his feet. “Thank you,” she whimpered. “Thank you!”

Rillo Mar looked at the boy to his right and nodded. He shifted and the boy switched places with him, shouldering Tanzo. Then, Rillo Mar knelt next to the woman. He lifted her chin. “No need for that,” he said.

“You do not understand,” she replied.

“Maybe, maybe not. Your relief is clear, and for that I’m glad.”

“What will you do with him?” She asked. “How can you be certain he won’t come back.”

“Oh, don’t trouble yourself with such thoughts,” he replied. “The path to healing is forgetting this man was ever in your life. Pay him as little mind as you can. It sounds impossible, I know. It will take time,” he said, “but you’ll find that he will occupy less of your attention with each passing day until…” He held the back of his fist to his head and then opened his hand. “One day you’ll realize you didn’t think about him at all. The fear will be gone, the intimidation, and all that will be left is your own voice, commanding your own thoughts, thinking about your own ambitions, curiosities, and trivialities.” He reached down and grabbed the woman’s hand, squeezing. She looked up at him. “You were never his belonging,” he said. “None of you. You are for you and you alone. When you learn this, you’ll be the person you were meant to be; you’ll be his victim no longer.” He squeezed her hand again and let go. “Take care now. I’ll see you before too long.” And with that, he rose and reshouldered Tanzo’s limp body. They dragged him out into the street, leaving the woman and all the other patrons to come to terms with their burgeoning relief.

__________________________________________

A smell of sausage woke the sleeping giant. “Ah!” In front of him, he heard the crackling of a small fire and the sounds of someone chewing. “You’re awake.”

Tanzo groaned and sat up. He felt drained, like he’d walked a hundred miles. “Wha-…what happened?”

“I closed one of your boka,” the voice said. “I’ll spare you the technicalities, but I cut you off from the energy that motivates our bodies to do the things that keep up alive. Well, I didn’t cut you off. I restricted your access. You were out for a while, so you needed time to recover enough energy to regain consciousness. You’ll feel spent for a long time. It’s just as well. I’d rather not have to do it again. It’s more of a last resort.”

Tanzo blinked and looked around. He lay in a grassy field beside the woods. The sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows, though he couldn’t tell if it was morning or evening. In front of him was a tiny fire, flickering hardly bigger than a candle. He stared across the fire and saw an indistinct figure sitting cross-legged, scooping food from a bowl with a spoon. Tanzo squinted and focused. The voice belonged to the Marshall. He groaned. “Oh, please.”

Rillo Mar chuckled. “I know,” he said. He motioned to a spot next to Tanzo. “Please, eat. It’s sweet sausage, pepper, and rice. You’ll need it. It’ll make you feel better.”

Tanzo looked down at the bowl beside him. The sight of the food turned his stomach. “Uh uh…” He looked away.

“Take your time,” the Marshall replied.

Tanzo swallowed and closed his eyes. “You gonna turn me in, old man?”

Rillo Mar spoke with his mouth full. “Unfortunately, yes, I’ll have to.” He swallowed. “In your time in Balyuron Village, you managed to commit many, many crimes – stealing, destroying property, beating, not to mention the terrible toll your intimidation took on the people’s morale. It’s not within the purview of my office to pass judgement, neither can I look the other way. You’ll be judged according to the law by the people appointed to do so.”

Tanzo grunted. “They’ll have me executed.”

“You think so?”

“You don’t?”

Rillo Mar shrugged. “It’s not my place to say.” He scraped at his mostly empty bowl and spooned whatever food was left into his mouth. “Although, I wonder how you feel about the possibility,” he said. Tanzo looked away from the Marshall; the sight and sound of him eating bordered on vulgar. The Marshall swallowed, put down his bowl, and took a swig from a skin of water. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“How would you feel if you were sentenced to death?”

Tanzo scowled. “What kind of deranged question is that?”

The Marshall shrugged. “I’m just wondering.”

“You’re out of your mind, old timer.” An itchiness manifested in Tanzo’s throat. He cleared it, cleared it again, and finally let the cough out. He looked down at the bowl of food next to him and saw a skin of water next to it. He grabbed it, pulled out the stopper, and took a long drink. It was cool, a pleasant surprise. “Why do you wanna know how I feel? I deserve it. I terrorized that stupid little village for years – I’m surprised none of them tried to cut me in my sleep. How else was this gonna end?”

“How do you mean? Did you intend to be caught? Or were you hoping they’d kill you?”

“Why would I want that?”

“I’d just like to know,” the Marshall replied. “I’d like to understand what motivated you.”

“For what? Who cares?”

“I care,” he said.

“You’re lying.”

“If you say so.”

Between them, the little fire was dying down. “Stoke it,” Tanzo said. “It’s going out.” Rillo Mar smirked. Next to him was a pile of kindling and tinder; he reached down, grabbed a couple sticks, and arranged them over the flame. Then he gently blew on it. The flame grew. The Marshall sat back down on the ground, cross-legged, leaning back on his hands. Tanzo scowled. “It’s gonna die if you don’t put bigger wood on it.”

“If you want me to make a fire, Tanzo, you could ask for one.”

“I don’t care about a fire. Do what you want. I just thought you made it, you’d want it to stay alive.”

“I’ve no preference either way,” he replied. “But if you’d like a fire, you can ask me, and I’ll make one to last.”

“I told you it doesn’t matter.”

“Then we can agree on something,” the Marshall said. Tanzo groaned and Rillo Mar chuckled.

The two sat in silence for a few moments as the flame grew. Tanzo watched it dance. He grabbed the water skin and took another long drink. “I want a fire,” he said.

Rillo Mar nodded, clapped his knees, and stood up. He turned to walk toward the woods. “If you intend to try to run off while my back is turned,” he said without turning around, “good luck.”

Tanzo frowned, shook his head, and sighed, watching the Marshall disappear into the trees.

He didn’t know much about the Marshalls, but some things were common knowledge. There was only one at a time, he knew, and they held the position for their entire lives. It had something to do with reincarnation, Tanzo thought. Mostly, they were renowned for their wisdom. People of all walks trusted them to resolve their problems without resorting to violence or intimidation. This brought the Marshalls into contact with the common folk and high society alike. Why exactly they were around wasn’t clear, but they were revered the world over. For someone so highly regarded, Tanzo found Rillo Mar unexpectedly aloof. He wondered if that was the point.

Tanzo rolled his neck and took a deep breath. With a little hesitation, he picked up his bowl and started eating. The sausage was exquisite – maple sweet, kissed by the savory richness of the fatty texture. Paired with the tender peppers, mixed with the fluffy rice, it went down easy. He’d eaten well in Balyuron, but no meal tasted so sweet as this one.

A few minutes later, Rillo Mar reappeared with armful of medium-sized sticks and a couple logs. He dropped his quarry next to the pile of kindling and tinder and got to work building a more impressive fire. “I see you’ve given my cooking a chance,” he said, grunting. “I learned from an Emyan cook. I’d never dare to compare myself. Though, for one who lives a nomadic life, I think I eat well.”

“It’s good,” Tanzo replied.

“A compliment!” Rillo Mar chuckled. “I didn’t know you were capable.”

“Shut your mouth,” said Tanzo, though it was hardly more than a whisper.

After a few minutes of tinkering, Rillo Mar bent over and blew on the coals. The flame caught and soon there was fire. Satisfied, the Marshall sat back down, took a deep breath, and nodded. “I give you fire.”

“Thanks.” Tanzo put his bowl down and took another drink from his water skin. He wiped his mouth and pulled his legs to his chest. The pair sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the fire grow. The sun was getting lower in the sky. Finally, Tanzo spoke. “I don’t wanna die, old man,” he said. “But I won’t run away from you.”

Rillo Mar didn’t move. “And I don’t want you to die, Tanzo,” he replied. “But I won’t release you, either.”

“I know,” said Tanzo.

“I know you know,” the Marshall replied. “But I should still say it. May I ask you something?” Tanzo shrugged. “Why’d you do it? Why Balyuron? Why anywhere? A man of your physical stature could’ve lived twice as well in the capital. You could’ve been part of the king’s personal guard. It would’ve been trivial. You’d’ve had money, land, women, and all without committing any crimes. It must’ve crossed your mind. Why threaten and maim when you could’ve lived so lavishly so easily?”

“What’s a king ever done for me?” Tanzo spit. “I won’t be anybody’s puppet.”

“I see.”

“Look, I know what you’re trying to do, but I’m not gonna bite.”

“What do you mean?”

“You think you can get me to admit that I feel bad for the things I did. You think I want to be redeemed. I don’t.”

“You don’t want to admit you feel bad or you don’t want to be redeemed?”

Tanzo frowned. “I don’t…I don’t want to get away with what I’ve done. I don’t want to live with it.”

Rillo Mar took a deep breath. “The trouble with our actions, Tanzo, is that we cannot take them back,” he said. “But with retrospect, we can learn why we acted as we did, accept those actions, and begin the process of healing and redemption.”

Tanzo shook his head. “No,” he replied. “I can’t. I know how they feel, I don’t deserve it.”

“Tell me why.”

“I…I…” He shook his head. “A bandit broke into my home when I was just a boy. He was on the run and needed a place to hide. When the Guard came, he forced my family to pretend like he was one of us. My father refused. It cost him his life. My mother’s, too, and the guards. They all died. Not the bandit, though. He stayed for months, and he kept me alive so I could take care of him. Any time I stepped out o’ line, he’d hurt me.” Tanzo held out his hands, palms facing the Marshall. He wiggled his fingers. “Six of ‘em are a knuckle short, see?” Rillo Mar squinted and saw that the middle, ring, and pinky fingers on both hands had been severed at the last knuckle.

“What happened to the bandit?”

“He was caught,” said Tanzo. “And he was executed. Good riddance.”

“And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“As far as I can tell, you repeated his actions almost exactly. Why?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “It felt good to not be the victim. Never the victim. Never again.”

Rillo Mar nodded. “I see,” he said. “It doesn’t condone your actions, but you have my sympathy.”

Tanzo waved a hand. “Forget it. It’s done. I know what I did. There’s no taking it back. Let it be the ignoble end my miserable life deserves.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” the Marshall replied. “Apologize. Express your sympathy and explain yourself. You can’t undo the evil you’ve done, but you can help your victims in a way you never had the chance.”

Tanzo sighed. “I don’t know, Marshall. If that bandit ever apologized to me, I’d never believe it.”

“I wouldn’t blame you. But you don’t know. Imagine a world where you had closure. Would you have acted the same? Would you have wrought the same suffering?” The Marshall asked. “Maybe not. It’s more plausible than you think.”

Tanzo was quiet for a long time. Twice, he started to speak, but stopped himself. The offer was too tempting to pass. Finally, he replied. “You’ll tell them?”

“With your permission.”

“All right,” he said.

Rillo Mar smiled. “Nobody can change what will happen to you next,” he said, “but be satisfied knowing you’re better than the suffering that was unjustly thrust upon you in your youth.”

Tanzo stared into the fire, his eyes hot. “Thank you, Marshall,” he said. “Thank you…”