Tea with Mamono.

The breeze swept across the endless green field like a silent executioner; the cold kiss of death. My eyes took one last look at the serene landscape, just beyond the horizon, admiring the majestic blue radiance shining like a sea in the sky.  

The place my consciousness tethered to was a place where time felt endless, perhaps it might have been a place before the birth of the universe. If I had more time in such a place I was sure that I would awaken in a true state of zen. 

As the wind crept closer I could feel my skin crawl, the chill deepened gradually, all I could do was wait for the embrace of death. 

At the center point of isolation there I was, standing in a place that felt like an oasis, it was the closest place to paradise that I could imagine. It brought an unnatural soothing feeling to my body. The perfect place for meditation, I naturally sensed my mind was flowing with the Satori realm, that had to be the place, a majestic place filled with a lush landscape and yet it created a sense of isolation. I had little doubt of where I was. 

The nature of the wind did as the wind does, it came unrelenting, sweeping over and around my primordial body, swiftly its claws pulled me down, dragging me without my willingness to go. As the wind took me all that remained was darkness. 

At the center of the darkness I sensed a familiar aroma, a scented candle; the melted wax simmered in the air. Without glancing I could tell the candle was nearly snuffed. All that remained of the candle was a small stem, it rested inside its candle holder.

The scent of the aroma that danced under my nostrils, it was nothing more than the last remnant of what once was. 

My body cocked backward while my head followed the motion, I took a long inward breath. As my body came forward, and my eyes opened, I found myself back in my original meditative posture. 

The Satori realm. Was that a dream or had my mediation really taken me to a world beyond the physical realm? Whether it was real or not I knew one thing for certain, never would I lay eyes on such an elegant place again. 

A single tear traveled down the side of my right cheek, rolling off my beard. I would not have noticed had it not hit my kimono. I quickly wiped my face as though someone was staring at me. 

In the moment that I finished composing myself, there was a glimmer of light inching closer to the corner of my eyes, slightly blinding me. It came from the sun as the light hit steel, reflecting toward me. My hand shielded part of the glare, making It easier to recognize what I was witnessing; it was a blade, not just any blade but one I knew quite well. 

My fathers blade lay comfortably on silk cloth, stitched with my family crest. The blade was a katana forged from the finest metal, made for my fathers time in battle.  

The katana appeared untouched. The room I was held in did not have a katana the night before; it must have been placed before I began my mediation. The idea was slightly both amusing and revolting. It was just a game to play with my mind, nothing more and yet I was still intrigued. 

The blade itself appeared to be polished, looking as new as when I first received it from my father; perhaps it looked newer than that, almost as if it were in pristine condition. The iron looked like the day it was first crafted. The deeper I looked at my ancestral blade the more darkness I saw.

There was no amount of cleaning that could wash away the sins of the blade. Sunlight gleamed off the polished iron, yet the history of darkness remained, blood was drenched forever into the craftsmanship of the blade. The inflicted pain was caused by the hands that gripped the hilt of the katana. They were my bloodstained hands.

With hesitance I tried reaching for the katana. “Sentimental are we? Sadly we'll need to talk before the time comes to be reunited with your blade, samurai.” My hand stopped. I raised my head toward the voice. Miori Yakima, the war dog bred by the shogun. 

“Today’s the day, huh?” My hands lay rested in my lap, they were lightly positioned for meditation, yet the thought of today curled my fingertips into both palms, tightening into a pair of fists ready for war.   

I took a deep breath, composing my thoughts into a zen state. I knew what needed to be done, all that was left was acceptance.

Miori guided his hand on the wall of my cell, walking the perimeter. The way Miori behaved was odd, but it was his character, he had always been odd in his little ways. 

His attention was always distracted, either surveying a battlefield before and during battle. It was either war or pondering the stars that Interested him. That was the one thing I admired about him, his search for knowledge. 

I was slightly happy that the man I knew was still there, even if we were on different paths. I never expected Miori to be my guard, but I expected nothing less from the shogun. 

“My apologies for the discomfort, I hate for an old friend to suffer, it's undignified for a samurai of your skills.” Friend? The thought of me being his friend amused me, I smiled, with a scoff under my breath. 

“Is that what we are?” I asked the question expecting silence. The man I knew was not fit for battle, he was timid, more fit to be a learner than a general.

I was shocked to be met by Miori without fear in his eyes, his expression was stoic as his footsteps came forward in near silence. His movements came forward slowly. Miori was careful to adjust his kimono before taking a seat, he liked being comfortable. He looked at me intently, as he grabbed my katana.

“Chinmoku, the blade of silence. The quite killer of the night.” Miori pointed it toward me as if he were ready to run the blade through me, like I were a wild animal that needed to be put down. 

He smiled. “The look in your eyes shows me a man with stories of a thousand lives. Your hands are stained in blood and yet you still puzzle me. I think with the years we fought together I am entitled to one question.” He spoke with a soft tone, yet it was firm and direct. I could tell his eyes wanted an answer and I knew the question he would propose was one that would paint me a hypocrite if answered. 

“Tell me why you betrayed the shogun, Kaito?” if it were someone else and not Miori, perhaps I would not have answered. No, the only one I could tell the truth to was Miori. 

“Before I tell you, I ask that you think deeply about my next question and answer truthfully. Does knowing the truth change anything?” He paused for a moment before laying my katana back on my family crest. 

“For the Shogun no…However for me it changes my view of a man I admire. A man that I call a friend.” friend? There he went again using that word. On the field of battle we may have been brothers bathed in blood, but never were we truly friends. At least that's what I wanted to believe. 

“I'll tell you.” Miori leaned in closer, he listened to my entire story, hanging on every word. If I didn't think better I would have thought he shed a tear but I knew my eyes deceived me, as they did in my journey to the satori realm. 

“Quite an interesting story. It's almost-” Before he could finish his thought a boy came into the cell, in his hands he was carrying a pot of tea and cups for drinking.

Miori looked irritated before realizing it was just the servant boy. “Ah, it's the tea I requested.” He motioned with his fingers for the boy to come closer. The boy was hesitant at first, he gradually moved closer. 

“Pour our guest and me a cup of tea” The boy did as instructed but I sensed the nerves on him. His hands trembled as he placed the two cups down on the floor. His eyes never looked away from me for more than a few moments. The only explanation for his fear was that he heard the myths of me. Rather I should say he heard the myth of Mamono.

“Mamono, the demon in blood.” The kid recoiled as drops of tea spilled. “Do you fear Mamono, child?” I wanted to save the boy from Miori’s question, but he looked at me in a way that struck fear in me. He would have to face Miori head strong, nothing I could say or do would help. 

The boy could not find the courage to speak, he nodded as his own way of answering Miori. “Very well. Come here.” Miori was going too far for my sins, the many sins I had to bear on my own. if the boy feared me let it be. Miori would not allow it. At first the boy would not come, staring at my katana. The Miori I knew would never strike a child in cold Blood, the kid had nothing to fear, although it was hard for him to know Miori’s intent. 

I don’t know what caused the boy to come closer to Miori, but when he did Miori guided the boy to his knees and whispered in his ears. I could not hear what he told the boy, but when he finished the boy grabbed the tea pot and left in great haste. 

Miori laughed. “What did you tell the boy?” I asked. He looked at me and smiled. “Nothing much, all I said was that he shouldn’t show signs of fear in the presence of demons or his family might be cursed.” 

“You told him that? I thought…” My words turned to thoughts, carrying a silence in the room. 

“What did you think? Did you think I would tell him you were not a demon? Do you think he would believe such a lie?” I scoffed. Miori truly was the same, a fool through and through. 

“No, you’re right. My sins are that of a demon wearing the face of a man.” We both laughed, but reality soon took hold of us as we both knew the end was near. 

“It was good to laugh again, Kaito. I wish we could do it again. I wish I could let you walk through those doors, but the shogun will not allow it. My duty is to him and my honor is what guides me.” Miori pulled vile from his Kimono. 

“For your crimes the shogun wants to make an example out of you. He proposed many…I’ll say interesting executions, some that even made my guts turn.” As he finished he popped the vile and poured it in my tea. 

“Fear not my friend. I convinced him to give you a more gentle death, one more befitting a once loyal samurai.” I could see the regret in his eyes. The tears he held back were filled with sorrow. But we both knew this would be the outcome. 

“It’s okay to cry. I would do the same if I were in your shoes.” The stoic expression he once had broke down as his tears flowed like pouring rain. I smiled. I took my tea cup and gulped it down, not leaving a drop. 

I felt the tea work fast, my breaths slowed down and my body was weakening, my senses became dark. The last image I saw was of Miori from the doorway. He was looking at me, like a man putting down his wild dog, a mutt with no sense of morality. I was sure I died with a smile on my face. I had not witnessed it but I was sure in my last moments Miori knew I was happy.