Return

Yoshiro was deep in his thoughts. He walked continuously without any direction. He no longer bothered to look for way to their nearest camp. He held onto the reins of his horse instead of riding it. The thought of riding it did not occur to him, either, by the way. The horse complied though he neighed a few times, trying to alert Yoshiro of whatever obstacle that was in their path. Yoshiro jolts as the horse neighs again. He was about to bump into a tree once more. He sighed and caressed the hair’s white mane. White hair, huh, like of that man’s hair.

He scoffed and recalled all that has happened within the last week: he was sent to one of the unclaimed regions, Yeochun. The region was located southwest of the Shrine and was not near to any settlements but their governors chose to be part of the North Kingdom. No reason given or needed to heed their request except for expanding territories.

The journey has been smooth if it wasn’t for the opposition ambush on them. It was normal behavior from the North or South to attack the unclaimed regions into submission especially if that region ran the risk of being claimed by the other. Better to be unclaimed than claimed; better to burn the region than for it to be claimed. However, on normal occasions, they refused to waste any resources on the unclaimed regions. They usually waited till their governors ran out of resources to manage their regions then they’d crawl for help to either the North or South Kingdom.

But ah, the memories of the war returned to him and on cue, his body began to hurt. It’s as if it remembered what happened to it in that war. He bent his neck to the sides, trying to eliminate the pain there. Yes, he took on heavy blows but he survived…and that was because the Southerner took care of him. To top it off, they were supposed to be mortal enemies but the man still nursed him back to health.

He still thought it strange and who knows what happened to the region of Yeochun? Usually, those regions attacked to submission were reduced to ashes then abandoned. He felt burdened by that fact. The region that sought help from a kingdom was usually under their responsibility unless they backed out of that deal. He wanted to think about this but his mind wandered back to his experience with the Southerner.

He remembered being in their camp though he never thought of spying. Now, he regretted and should have but it was his pride disallowing him to. Besides, neither North or South never have permanent camps outside the Qi Zone. The man was also kind to him and it’d be a shame to return the kindness that way.

There’s this strange feeling lingering around him: he has met the man before---he’s not sure when. He just knew they had met before that event. It’s probably why that Southerner helped him. He tried prying the reason but nothing came out but the word “duty”. What a liar. Of course, there’s something asides from duty at play. He touched his hair and felt the short, sharp strands poking against his fingers. Was it right for him to give his hair away just like---

“Your Royal Highness!”

He bolted upright when he was called. He didn’t realize he was nearing the gates of their camp. How did he even find their camp when he was---ah, never mind that. He was so happy to see that strict but over-familiar face, black hair and tanned skin.

He called out, “General Zhang!”

A group of horse riders came rushing towards him. He now noticed how beautiful the terrain he was walking on. It was flat with tall, green strands of grass being swayed by the cool wind. The horses’ legs easily parted the sea of grass. The sun was high; the skies were blue. From here, he could see the brown wooden walls of their camp. The sharp top of each pole and of the trees far behind their camp impaled the sky. He smiled as the joy of being found and of being home again rushed to him.

General Zhang reached him first. The man was his third degree cousin and in every expedition, journey to wherever and back home, they were together. Zhang got off his horse and curtsied before Yoshiro. Yoshiro bowed a bit as reply…then a large smile spread over his face as he leaned towards the man and embraced him.

Zhang gasped and though embarrassed of Yoshiro’s behavior, allowed him to hug in front of the other soldiers. He glanced back and in an instant, everyone avoided watching the scene Yoshiro was making. Once contented, Yoshiro stepped back, his gigantic smile still present.

Zhang frowned, “You know that you are supposed to look dignified in front of others and reserve acts of affection for private---“

Yoshiro started laughing, “Come on, General Zhang! I came out alive! Shouldn’t you be happy?”

Zhang sighed. Yoshiro was younger than him in both age and mind. He always felt responsible to take care and protect his cousin. The man---no, more like a boy in his eyes---the boy was too naïve in his eyes. The boy had a horse but did not ride it. (He knew the boy forgot to.) The boy was carelessly walking alone, unconscious and unaware of the dangers around him but ah, he got back safe. He smiled and ruffled Yoshiro’s hair. Yoshiro was surprised as Zhang rarely showed affection for him in public, but he showed no sign of surprise, and simply allowed the man to ruffle his hair.

“Welcome back, cousin---“ that was when he realized a length of Yoshiro’s hair was missing. He panicked (he always does especially if it comes to Yoshiro even if it’s just a trifle) and quickly turned Yoshiro around and examined his back. The boy’s nape showed. His hair was cut off.

“Where’s the rest of your hair---“

Yoshiro cut him off with a loud but sweet laugh, “You worry too much!”

He drags both his horse by the reins and the General by the arm. “I’ll tell you later. Right now, I just want to take a bath and rest in my tent again. And oh, then we can have a meal! A roasted pig would be wonderful!”

“Of all, really, he does that first.”

Zhang groaned but nevertheless, followed Yoshiro into their camp.

Yoshiro was laughing as he related what happened. He was slightly drunk on the wine being shared by everyone and he was delighted that by Yeochun survived the ransacking. Yes, there were casualties but they’ve considered that as normal. It’s a sad occurrence but they’ve learned to focus on the bright side, instead. Another news is that by tomorrow, they’ll return news of their victory. They’ll have something new to rub on the face of the Southerners. His laughter sounded like sweet music, almost like ringing ceremonial bells signaling the start of a festival to those who heard it. Certainly, mood-lifting but Zhang was still bothered. He observed Yoshiro’s bare nape. The boy had not expressed a single regret for losing his hair.

While everyone around the long table was busy in their own conversations, he gently elbowed Yoshiro (which to Yoshiro may not be “gentle”). Yoshiro turned to him and smiled, “What is it, Zhang?”

Whenever they are privately conversing, they called each other by first names.

“Yoshiro, you know the importance of hair, right?”

Yoshiro nodded.

“Does it not bother you that you gave your hair away to a stranger?”

Yoshiro calmly continued eating his food. Once he gulped, he answered, “No. He saved my life. He could have dragged me to the Shrine and fulfilled the god’s game…but he didn’t. Instead, he nursed me back to health. I naturally felt indebted to him so I gave him my hair.”

Zhang raised his head, thinking whether what Yoshiro did was right…or wrong, then he shrugged his shoulders, “Northern Debts. I understand you. The feeling of not being able to repay kindness is heavy on our consciousness.”

“Ah! I remember,” he turned to Zhang, “did you know Southerners smack their patients on the back to check if they’re fully healed?”

Zhang raised his eyebrow but said nothing. However, Yoshiro could feel the man’s disbelief but he continues. He laughs, “Aren’t they a weird bunch of people—“

“Are you saying that Southerner smacked you on the back?”

Yoshiro nodded, cheerfully just to assure Zhang it was okay.

Zhang frowned, “That’s not…”

Yoshiro raised his head…and broke the chopsticks in his hands. He glared at Zhang, “You’re telling me it’s not a tradition?”

The whole room went silent at the sound of the chopsticks breaking. They turned to Yoshiro, sitting at the head of the table. Despite being naïve and seemingly weak, Yoshiro had this side they did not want to mess with. That side of him was nerve-wracking but luckily, it rarely shows and they loved his sweet smiles and laughter than that frightening glare he has right now. Zhang usually dealt with that side effortlessly and no one knows how he does it.

Zhang nods without meeting his cousin’s eyes, “Yea.” and resumed eating as if nothing happened.

Then it happened. A curse flew out of Yoshiro’s mouth:

“That fucking Southerner!”