Chapter 3: Father’s Return

The door leading to the earthen floor was flung open without hesitation.

Heavy footsteps stomped into the wooden-floored room, the sound of boots striking the dry boards accompanied by the dull scrape of armor.

Into the air of the residence, accustomed to the scent of the sea, the presence of iron and sweat rushed in all at once, subtly shifting the atmosphere.

Owada Genba-no-jo Yoshihisa—Takemaru’s father.

Around thirty years old, he was somewhat tall for a samurai of Tohoku, with a well-trained body that still carried the presence of returning straight from battle.

That said, the title “Genba-no-jo” attached to his name was not one formally granted by the imperial court.

It was, in essence, self-proclaimed.

However, it was not entirely without basis.

It was said that during his grandfather’s time, when they had gone to battle under the Soma lord, he had distinguished himself quite well.

Ordinarily, he would have been rewarded with land or money, but perhaps it was deemed wasteful to grant such rewards to a local retainer.

—Or perhaps there were other intentions—

Instead, he had been given official permission to “use the name Genba-no-jo.”

In other words, he had not been granted the rank itself, but was allowed only to bear the name, making it a rather half-hearted honor.

Even so, as a name acknowledged by the head of the prestigious Soma family, it carried a certain level of external credibility.

As a form of introduction, it was by no means meaningless.

Moreover, it seemed that this was not limited to a single generation, but permitted to be passed down within the family.

—It was an honor.

Certainly, it was an honor, but—

(…What a half-baked story,) Takemaru thought inwardly, giving it a faintly lukewarm assessment.

To begin with, the Owada family was not “retainers” of the Soma family.

They were what one would call local landed gentry under their authority.

They were rooted in the land, governing villages and surrounding areas, and in that capacity served the Soma family through a relationship of “service.”

When ordered, they would dispatch troops, and in return receive protection and recognition of their lands.

It was a mutually dependent relationship, unlike retainers directly incorporated into their lord’s household, leaving them standing somewhat outside of it.

In simple terms, they were “not full vassals, yet not free enough to defy.”

Behind him followed his close aide and uncle, Owada Yoshimitsu, as well as a relative, Onoda Hisahide.

Both were similarly blessed with height and had imposing physiques.

For people of this region, they were indeed large.

There was the sea, rivers, and mountains nearby.

Though grain was scarce, in autumn salmon would run upstream in the rivers, and seafood came in from the sea.

Even if they could not always eat their fill, they still obtained protein and fats.

Perhaps that was why their bodies were well-built and their bones strong—Takemaru idly thought.

(…Maybe I can test this on my cousin Maremaru next time.

A human experiment.

…Heh.

That guy is clearly well-fed, so I’ll have him eat nothing but meat and fish and make him even bigger.

Then for Atsumaru, I’ll try different conditions—)

His aimless thoughts drifted lazily through his mind.

But at the moment Yoshihisa caught sight of him sprawled out on the veranda, a deep crease formed between his brows.

“…Again.”

He spat the word out in a low voice.

At that single remark, Takemaru’s thoughts were abruptly cut off.

“You have spent the entire day on the veranda again, have you not?

The marks of the boards are clearly imprinted on your face.”

Only then did Takemaru open one eye.

Slowly, he raised himself and placed both hands on the veranda, his movements entirely devoid of any sense of urgency.

“Welcome back, Father.

Your safe return is most gratifying.”

After offering a token greeting, he shifted his gaze slightly to the side.

“It is also reassuring to see that Uncle and the others are in good health.”

He added it almost as an afterthought, and without hesitation, extended his right hand toward his father.

“Well then—surely you have brought some sort of souvenir for your beloved heir?”

The gesture was so natural it seemed as if it had been decided from the beginning.

A brief silence fell.

Yoshihisa let out a deep breath.

It was not a relaxing sigh, but a heavy exhale, as if expelling something weighed down within him.

At that moment, footsteps approached from within.

Though restrained, they carried a sense of urgency.

His mother, Koto, and his younger brother, Atsumaru, appeared.

Behind them, a maid carried the Owada family’s only daughter, still a small infant.

“My lord, welcome home.”

“Father, welcome back.”

As the two bowed together, Yoshihisa’s previously stern expression softened.

It was a gentle face never shown to Takemaru.

“Mm, thank you for the welcome.”

His voice, too, carried a hint of warmth.

But that warmth did not last long.

The moment his gaze returned to Takemaru, his brow furrowed once more.

“…This heir alone.”

He muttered bitterly.

“At this rate, I may have to consider disinheriting him and appointing Atsumaru instead.”

The words were spoken lightly, yet carried considerable weight.

Takemaru shrugged.

“Now, now, what a joke.

Father, when it comes to humor, you are truly unmatched in all the land.”

Though he brushed it off casually, his outstretched hand did not waver.

Yoshihisa’s temple twitched.

“It is only because I am lenient that you remain the heir.

In another household, you would have long since been sent to a temple or driven out.”

“Ah, how harsh a judgment.”

He spoke with a smile.

Yet his hand remained perfectly still.

An unspoken pressure slowly filled the air.

At last, as if resigning himself, Yoshihisa reached out and placed his own hand on top of it.

“It is I, who raise such a sluggard, that am your greatest souvenir.”

The corner of his mouth twisted slightly.

For a moment, Takemaru nearly clicked his tongue—

But swallowed it.

“…I am most grateful for such fortune.”

His voice alone carried proper respect as he shifted his weight onto that hand.

“Well then, up I go.”

With that odd phrasing, he stood up, finally returning to a proper human posture.

“Such incomprehensible words again…” his father muttered.

Still holding his hand, Takemaru suddenly looked up.

“Now then, Father.

How did the battle fare?”

It was a casual question.

But in that instant, the air changed.

Yoshihisa’s expression twisted slightly.

With a bitter look, he spoke shortly.

“From Hinata Tate—the fifth son of Iwaki Tsunetaka, Tomioka Yamato-no-kami Takatoki, launched an attack.”

The moment the name was spoken, the presence of Yoshimitsu and Hisahide standing behind him grew tense.

“He guards the north of Iwaki.

That place is always troublesome.”

Yoshihisa crossed his arms and snorted.

“We drove them back this time as well, but…”

His words trailed off.

Then, in a low, heavy voice, he continued.

“He was quite a formidable opponent.”

The wind passing through the veranda brushed softly against the skin.

Unlike before, it carried a chill, sharp as a blade.