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’He might even be better than Jikouji...’

He pondered, reevaluating his plan.

"Alright, Niiro-san switch with Togashi. Togashi-kun, good work."

The man nodded seriously, handing the bokken to Niiro who stepped forth and assumed his stance.

"Right, if you can land a hit on Niiro, then you can join."

The peasant looked terrified at the prospect of fighting once more, and the tip of his sword quivered, but he did not flee, so his motivation proved to be substantial.

Old man Niiro was a more average fighter, but he an unyielding aggression that lent extra weight to his strikes.

The peasant man was quickly pushed back, holding his sword to protect his face, as he fled like a frightened rabbit. He sustained numerous injuries to his ribs and to his shoulders, but none were enough to make him drop the weapon.

He tried a few strikes of his own, but under the onslaught of Niiro’s attacks, he was unable to land any. Eventually, he was cornered against the wall and had to yield.

Gengyo felt bad for the man, and admired his courage in carrying on fighting despite the fear he felt. But he did not have enough skill to join their ranks. Not for the money they were offering.

He gently informed him that he wasn’t what they were looking for, and proceeded to test the next person.

A small crowd of people had begun to gather, so they needed not to wait. Another peasant man stepped forward, wearing a straw hat. He was broad in the shoulders, and his gait was that of a confident man.

He nodded briefly towards who he assumed to be the young master, before collecting the bokken that was offered to him.

"Niiro-san, take a break. Kitajo-kun, you’re up."

"Eh!?"

The boy gasped in surprise, pointing to himself to make sure that he had not misheard.

"Correct, you."

He could not believe that he was the one to have been picked. He was an immensely frail boy, and go up against such a burly opponent... Well, it was unlikely he’d be able to counter a single strike.

But his leader had a degree more confidence in him than he did in himself. He was aware of the changes the boy had gone through, and wished to cultivate him further.

The two men gripped their bokken firmly, and after a word from Gengyo, the fight began.

The larger man regarded his opponent lightly, underestimating him, but not lessening his attacks. In fact, he dove in stronger, and more aggressively, keen to make a good impression.

Putting his whole weight behind the strike he swung his sword toward Kitajo’s midsection. An undodgeable blow, given the speed it was moving at.

The boy’s instincts forced him to raise his elbows high, holding the sword downwards, interrupting the ferocious charge of the other wooden blade.

THWACK

The crushing sound of wood on wood reverberated throughout the port, as the spectators watched on, startled.

Not only had he blocked the strike, but he had not given an inch of ground in the process. Those frail skinny arms managed to generate enough force to block such a powerful blow.

The burly peasant’s eyebrows twitched in shock. He had put everything he had into that single strike, and it had been dealt with so easily. It angered him, as though the boy was calling the strength that he was so proud of useless.

He pushed forward, sending a flurry of strikes toward the young man, who dealt with them calmly, completely different from his normally nervous disposition.

The men of the Special Forces unit roared with approval watching their youngest member fight so fiercely. It brought pride just seeing him last this long.

Even though, in the end, a strike had managed to sneak past his guard, losing him the fight, not a single person could criticise his performance.

"Well fought, Kitajo-kun. Well fought indeed."

Gengyo praised genuinely, patting him on the shoulder. It felt odd, for he shared the pride that the rest of the men felt in seeing him perform so brilliantly. It was a feeling he was unused to, and one he wished to experience more of.

"Well, the rules are rules. Welcome to the Niwa Special Forces unit."

He said, speaking to the big man as he reached into his sleeve and presented him with 10 silver coins.

"Hah...hah... Thanks..."

The man said, removing his straw hat from his head as he crouched to his knees and panted loudly. His forehead was slick was sweat. It had clearly not been an easy victory. In comparison, Kitajo looked like he’d only gone on a short walk, for he was not out of breath, and was barely sweating.

With that, the Special Forces unit recruited their first member. The crowd grew even more excited when they saw that the reward for joining had not been a lie, as more and more people came, wishing to fight for such excellent pay.

It must be understood that this was far above a peasant’s normal wage. At most, you would be receiving 50 coppers a year, and here they were on 1 silver a week. It was no wonder they drew a crowd.

Due to this, Gengyo was able to be more selective, and sent out better fighters, with harsher winning conditions. His test for the men that he recruited and the men that he recruited on Niwa’s behalf were the same. The only difference was that he chose the men he liked most for his own unit.

The men were told on the spot which unit they would belong to, and so they were able to familiarise themselves with the people that they would be working alongside in future as they watched the rest of the fights.

There were some pretty gruesome displays, as unskilled fighters took to the ring fighting against the likes of Morohira. Needless to say, the conclusions to those fights were not pretty, and they were lucky if they could retain their consciousness.

These fights continued well on into the evening, and by the time the recruitment process had finished, the sky was completely black. Had it not been for the torches that lined the streets, then business would have been impossible to conduct.

Patrolling guards regarded the mass of men anxiously. Their group numbers of around 5 would have absolutely no chance of dealing with such an amount of people. And each of those people sat and obediently listened to the orders of one man.

"Once more I would like to welcome you all to Niwa Nakatane’s army. My name is Miura Tadakata, and I am in charge of the Special Forces unit. As promised, you have all received your ten silver for passing the test, and as promised, you will receive your 1 silver per week."

He allowed his words to soak in before speaking once more.

"Niwa Nakatane is the samurai landholder of a village called Toyone. This village is located 30 miles south from here."

He saw a few people flinch at the distance, dreading walking it in the morning.

"We leave tonight."

Their expectations were instantly crushed, and looks of outright worry spread across their faces. They would have complained, had they not seen the steeled expressions of the Special Force’s veterans who look as though this had been expected all along.

Now that new members had been recruited, those that had served alongside Gengyo felt their positions increase slightly, as others looked to them for guidance. It was a role they performed admirably, keeping the rest in line – at least for now.

For even if they were being paid a fair wage, the men before him were essentially contracted workers. They could not be relied upon for absolute loyalty. He planned to instil discipline within his own unit through training, and use that to influence Nakatane’s unit, and dissuade insubordinate behaviours and cowardice.

"Go and tell your families. Tell your friends. But you must return within 15 minutes."

It was a gamble saying such a thing. The men held 10 silver coins within their palms. Coins that they essentially had earned by doing nothing. Allowing them to leave now gave them the option not to return.

He knew this as he said it. That’s why he wore a smile. A smile that forecast that he knew. And as his eyes drifted across the men, a few shifted uncomfortably, feeling as though their thoughts had been revealed.

"Go."

With that word, those that had family to see left. The rest waited patiently, dreading the distance they had to cover.

If not for the new members, Morohira and the rest of would have been complaining too. But there was one thing that caused a sigh of relief amongst them.

"By the way, the punishment was a joke. You don’t really have to carry the winner on your back, Togashi."

Even though they were not the ones doing the carrying, none of them wanted to see the man suffer. Through his polite mannerisms, he had made a good impression. Through his excellent sword skills, he had made an even better one.

15 minutes passed, and the majority of the people had returned. A few arrived a couple of minutes late.

"There are three people who have not returned. Does anyone know who they are?"

A few hands shot up in the air, as people were eager to call out those more cowardly than they.

"Aye! I do!"

"Good. Whoever finds those men, will receive their silver. Do not worry about harming them in the process."

He spoke casually, as though such a thing had been a predetermined process.

They were only too eager to fetch the swindlers, and a group of 15 men instantly dispatched, sprinting so that they might claim the silver first.

The rest studied the young man in front of them carefully, pleased that they had not made such a mistake. There was a ruthlessness in his smile earlier. Only those foolish enough to look past that had attempted to flee with the coin in hand.

His own men were surprised by his actions. He’d always been a rather lenient man, at least with them. But none could fault his decision. It would set a good example to the new recruits: cheating will not be tolerated.

The first man was dragged to the square by a pair of brothers. He kicked and screamed his apologies, his right eye swollen. He was flung down at Gengyo’s feet, sobbing.

Gengyo barely looked at him, instead, he nodded toward the two young men with approval.

"Good. Split his coin amongst yourselves."

They wretched the coin back from his palm, sending a kick to his stomach to stop his resistance.

’A rather cruel pair of siblings.’

He remarked to himself. The only order he gave was for the man to be captured – the injuries they had inflicted themselves. He did not scold them for their actions, he merely recorded the occurrence in his mind, so that he might better understand and predict their character.

"Very good. You may go now."

He said, referring to the man on the floor.

He stared up at him, wide-eyed, thinking it was some kind of trap, but desperately hoping it wasn’t as he climbed to his feet in haste, and ran like a frightened rabbit as fast as his legs could carry him, crying all the while.

The other cheaters were dealt with in the same way. A stern punishment, but not excessively cruel. A man who could be reasoned with, but one that must certainly not be taken advantage of. And so the new recruits began to better understand their leader.

//Author’s Note

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