Harano silently revised his survival plan, deciding he'd have to move up the trip to Nagano Castle, and for a moment, didn't touch his food.
Abei was unsettled, and asked carefully, "Sir Nozawa, is the food not to your liking?" If Harano ate badly and got angry, demanding money for his medicine, she'd have no choice but to hang herself.
Harano came back to himself, picked up his bamboo chopsticks and smiled, "Not at all, the food's very good. You've really gone out of your way for me."
"Don't say that, our family is poor and our hospitality barely adequate. I'm just glad you don't mind." Abei responded with repeated politeness. If she could offset the medicine bill with a few meals, even if it cost more, she'd just count her blessings.
Especially since Harano's attitude had been consistently gentle—he hadn't lashed out or cursed her and Yayoi over some minor thing, much less slapped them to the floor. That was more than she'd dared expect; she could only be grateful.
"How's your husband doing?" Harano's thoughts weren't as tangled as Abei's. He'd never have guessed that simply not beating people could earn gratitude. He'd even forgotten about the medicine. In the spirit of small talk, he asked after her husband.
"He got up at night to drink some water, then went right back to sleep. He looks much better—as if he'll recover soon," Abei said, a sincere smile on her face.
Harano nodded and laughed, "Then when he wakes up, I'll go take another look at him."
"Thank you so much, sir." Abei bowed deeply, then, after hesitating, sat up and asked cautiously, "Sir, Jubei wishes to pay his respects and see you. Might you have a moment to spare?"
Harano found it a little odd: "Does he have some business?"
Abei lowered her head, "I wouldn't know, sir."
She genuinely didn't know—Jubei had been snooping around outside since early morning. Only because their families had been close for years, and Harano's mood seemed good, his nature gentle, did she dare ask on Jubei's behalf. Anyone else, she wouldn't risk it.
Harano thought for a moment, then nodded directly, "I actually have something I'd like to ask him as well. After breakfast, just have him come in."
"Yes, sir."
Abei answered and withdrew, leaving her daughter behind to wait on him—which seemed to be some kind of rule. It fully displayed the strict social hierarchy of medieval Japan.
Maybe in this era, even the smallest offense to someone higher up could get you killed. That's probably why everyone lives so cautiously, right?
It's miserable and insecure—what a crappy age this is!
Harano once again steeled his resolve to play "Mongolian Doctor" to preserve his life. After scarfing down breakfast, and when Yayoi tidied away the dishes and table, Jubei arrived right on time.
He was dressed just like yesterday—most likely had only this one set of decent clothes. He had no intention of climbing onto the raised seats; instead, he knelt right onto the dirt floor, forcing a stiff smile and asked carefully, "Sir Nozawa, did you rest well last night?"
"Thanks to your help, I slept just fine." Harano was a fake Samurai. For safety, he really wanted to act the part, but his modern upbringing meant he kept defaulting to politeness. No matter how he tried, he wasn't fooling anyone—and as an out-of-towner, a modern person, he really had no idea how to be a proper feudal samurai. All he could do was muddle through and slowly adjust.
Sure enough, his mild-mannered approach perked Jubei right up; the old guy's beady eyes glowed as he got excited: "Sir! I'm relieved to hear you slept well! I was worried the whole night—this is a poor backwater, you're sure not used to the place. So, before dawn I sent my two silly sons out to poke around, see if they could find something special to offer you. And guess what happened?"
Harano played along, asking, "Oh? What happened?"
"A good omen!" Jubei slapped his thigh and beckoned out the door. In came two half-grown lads, together holding a near-dead white egret. "They'd just reached the riverbank when this lucky bird came down from the sky. It must've heard you were here, sir, and came to pay its respects!"
Harano immediately saw Jubei in a new light. The egret's feathers were a mess and it was half-dead; there was no way it had come seeking a virtuous man. It had clearly been snared—probably on its way back to breed after wintering elsewhere and got caught looking for food.
This was less a "lucky bird" and more a "grudge bird"!
Still, anyone giving gifts always wants something. Harano saw through Jubei's little act and glanced at his two sons—about fourteen or fifteen, both even shorter than their dad, just past one-fourty in height, lanky and skinny. But their hair and clothes had clearly been washed specially; shabby, sure, but at least clean.
Jubei noticed Harano looking at his sons and got even more excited, immediately pitching them: "The older one's Tao Liulang, the younger one's Jing Qilang—both pretty sharp. Sir, you arrived all the way from the mountains without any helpers; how about… temporarily letting them hold your horse?"
He was at his wit's end. He had three kids—his eldest, Hata Sanroku (the others had died young), would inherit the house and paddies. But for the sixth and seventh sons, things would be tough, especially as they got older and ate more. Supporting them was a real struggle.
This was the perfect chance. If the boys could get fed by tagging along with Harano, great!
He was basically risking offending a high-status person for his sons—a pretty fair example of fatherly love, one could say.
Of course, if nothing came of it, that was fine too—no real costs involved. At worst, the whole family had just spent a night catching birds and fish. No big deal.
Harano himself didn't know where his next meal was coming from, but he didn't refuse directly. Instead, he joked, "I don't have a horse."
Jubei was quick on the uptake—probably owed his post as "village cadre" entirely to his mouth. He immediately replied, "Then let them be your horses!"
Harano really did need extra hands. Selfishly, if it came down to it, he could always shove one of them in the way of disaster. And in the meantime, they'd be useful for carrying things or moving his "dumb son" around. So he didn't refuse further, and asked Tao Liulang and Jing Qilang directly, "I need to go to Nagano Castle. Do you know the way?"
Before the boys could answer, Jubei was already overjoyed, repeating, "They know! They know, sir! There's not a single road in Haidong County they don't know!" He punctuated the words by smacking each boy's head, ordering, "Quick, pay respects! If the sir ever throws you out, don't bother coming home—just die out in the wild!"
Tao Liulang and Jing Qilang wasted no time, kowtowing on the spot—interview passed, now official retainers for Harano, sharing his fate from now on, rising or falling as one. Meals included.
......
Half an hour later, Tao Liulang and Jing Qilang each with a bamboo spear, plus a bamboo-woven hat and two pairs of blessing grass shoes—thus completing the family division from their father and elder brother. First job: accompany Harano to Nagano Castle. Meng Ziqi, meanwhile, Harano entrusted to Yayoi's care.
On the road, Harano chatted idly with them, adjusting his accent, all the while keenly observing and sizing up the boys' personalities.
Tao Liulang, so named because his mother ate wild peaches while pregnant (Jubei thought it a lucky sign), was much like his father—quick-talking, clever, a good judge of mood and situation, bolder than his brother. Not long after joining Harano, he was already suggesting that his younger brother carry the hiking pack.
Jing Qilang, so named because his mother fetched water from a well when having him (another "lucky omen" per Jubei), was quieter and more reserved, clearly shyer, just did what he was told, and seemed honest and well-behaved.
As for their knowledge and skills, both could handle farmwork, knew a bit about fishing and trapping, and were familiar with the local mountains. Beyond that, they were textbook peasant illiterate boys—couldn't read or do figures.
Nothing stood out as a major problem personality-wise. Even the glib Tao Liulang still had an air of natural sincerity, and like everyone of this era, a single deep bow meant the feudal chain of loyalty was forged—they'd already come to regard Harano as their patriarch. They understood their place on the hierarchy.
For now, they'd do—as long as they could work, the rest could wait.
Having made that assessment, Harano turned his gaze to the scenery by the roadside.
It was desolate—and not just because it was late winter. More than that, it reflected the underdevelopment of the era. The "road" was just a packed dirt path, sometimes wide, sometimes narrow—at its widest maybe a meter, at its tightest, just enough for a foot. Either side were bare hills. In spring, summer, or autumn, the vegetation must be thick—a good spot for an ambush. You could hide dozens or even a hundred men and no one would know.
Nothing like this existed in the modern age; the unfamiliarity was intense. But Harano guessed that, in the future, this would be the suburbs of Nagoya City—a forest of concrete. The undulating terrain looked familiar; the Otai River was probably what later became the Shonami River in Nagoya City, though the course was a little different at present.
Could Hosokawa Castle be the same as the future Hosokawa Guanyin Temple—the one with twelve hundred wooden Buddha statues?
Or was it built nearby the Guanyin Temple?
Too bad he'd only heard of it, never visited. Not exactly a big tourist attraction in modern times either.
Harano took in the scenery and quizzed the boys about the area. After more than an hour, under Tao Liulang and Jing Qilang's guidance, they turned onto a larger road. Still dirt, but much smoother and wider—maybe even a meter and a half—and they started to see other travelers. Occasionally an ox cart full of cargo rumbled by. It looked like one of Owari Province's main thoroughfares.
Harano watched people's expressions anxiously, afraid his "strange outfit" would draw suspicion and trouble. But clearly, he was overthinking it—at most, the passersby would glance his way out of curiosity before quickly dropping their gaze, either used to such oddities or too scared to risk offense.
This actually surprised him. After another couple of hours, by now the walls of Nagano Castle were visible in the distance, and they were suddenly unsettled by a mounted rider coming their way.
The man rode a squat greenish horse, his cheeks painted with bright, mysterious patterns. Even in midwinter, his chest was open and his hakama was just a short kilt—basically boxers. Barefoot in sandal-like stirrups, a katana and wakizashi at his waist, a stalk of rice between his lips, hair twisted into a topknot plaited like a bun of excrement.
What the hell kind of monster is that?
Harano suddenly felt like he'd stepped into Journey to the West, the tone of the story flipping.
He hadn't expected the very first samurai he'd meet in the Muromachi Era to look so bizarre and distinctive. He stared in shock, unable to look away. The mounted Samurai was equally taken aback by his "exceptional" style—first eyeing his hiking gear with admiration, then spotting his unremarkable cropped hair and showing a trace of contempt.
Neither spoke. The road was wide enough for both. They passed each other in silence.
Harano couldn't help glancing back at the "weirdo" wobbling along on horseback and couldn't resist saying to the two boys, "That guy…"
Tao Liulang looked puzzled. "Sir Nozawa, what is it?"
"Nothing," Harano caught himself and played it off, "He just looked a bit familiar."
"Is he a friend of yours, sir? Ah, no wonder—he's as gallant and eccentric as you, sir, clearly an extraordinary person." Tao Liulang, thanks to his father, had picked up a few tricks and immediately flattered his new master.
Harano gave him an approving smile and said nothing more.
"Gallant and eccentric," huh? Ancient Japan is seriously strange. You really can't cling to old ideas or stereotypes—you just have to keep watching and learning!
Take it slow!