Death was walking along the road one day wearing the Soui of a priest, and a basket over his head. He had an appointment in a village nearby, but while walking he came upon a curious sight. A table set right by the middle of the road, with four places set. On either side of the table there were poor peasant farmers, and at the end that was facing away from the road was something wrapped in a white sheet. The final place was empty. There were three small bowls of noodles, one for each farmer and one at the empty space. The bundle had nothing before it. The farmers just sat silently, as if they were waiting for someone. Death, curious, approached and stood before them inquiring what they were doing there.
“Just waiting for a friend.” The first farmer said.
“The noodles are his, although you’re welcome to sit down, I wouldn’t begrudge a stranger that. Especially a priest.” The second said cheerfully.
Death made himself comfortable at the table and inquired of the men’s names, learning that they were Kikou and Jachi. The noodles that were yet unclaimed were for someone named Adauchi. It seemed that now there was a forth at their table, the two farmers felt able to make small talk striking up a conversation about the season.
“Ahh, it’s bad, it’s bad.” Said the one farmer, shaking his head. “The rains have been coming in too soon, we’re likely to have floods this year.”
“Ahh, but that could be in a farmer’s favor.” Said the other. “If he were very careful, why, he could triple his output this year. But…only if he were careful. And he wasn’t.” the farmer pointed over his shoulder to the wrapped thing. And death could see now that it was the size and shape of a person.
“So…misfortune has befallen him.” Death said carefully. Both farmers nodded.
“It’s a real shame, too.” The one known as Jachi said. “He left behind a good family. A wife and plenty of kids. He would have been out planting today.” He shrugged casually. “A real shame.”
“Not so much of a shame.” Kikou added. “It must come to all of us, an emperor who has ruled most of his life, a samurai with many years of loyal service, or someone who had everything ahead of him, like our friend here.” Kikou shrugged. “Death is impartial, he takes from all, even those least deserving.” Here he nodded to the white sheet. Death began to get suspicious.
“Just who is in that white sheet?” one farmer said his name. It was the selfsame farmer death had come to claim! He demanded the farmers give him what was in the sheet.
“No.” one farmer said nonchalantly, slurping a noodle.
“Why not?” death demanded. “He is as good as mine now, why draw this out?” The other farmer fished a vegetable from the broth.
“Because he still has affairs to settle. That is why we are meeting today, to see an old friend he is still not settled with.” Death became infuriated.
“Who is this friend that you think he can postpone death? Is he some great, powerful king? Is he a city magistrate? Is he a Wiseman? I come to them all, and nothing can stop me you-” he stood up and pointed at first one farmer, then the other. “-have no right to make me wait.” The farmers merely glanced at this tirade and went on eating.
“No offense is meant, but unfinished business is unfinished business.” Jachi said. Kikou nodded his agreement.
“Take this other fellow in town. He’s been a miser for years, no one knows where he buried his money, but he has no attachments whatsoever. I bet if you took him yesterday no one today would even know.” Death was even angrier than before.
“Who are you two peasants to tell me my job?” he roared. “I will take him now, and there is not one who can put a hand out to stop me!” but as he reached for the body, one farmer rose halfway and put his hand up, the other cupped around his ear. Death paused and then all three of them heard it, the sound of heavy footsteps, and the rattle of Yoroi.
Around the bend strode a samurai in Armour, with no helmet and only one sword. Even from this distance, they could tell something was subtly wrong with him. One eye was shut and dented in slightly. One hand hung off at an odd angle, and there was a red semicircle along the samurai’s forehead. Part of his cheek was missing, and the samurai walked with an odd, shuffling gait He came to a stop at the table and grunted, as if to affirm something. Both farmers jumped up in greeting.
“Adauchi! How are you?” they cried.
“The battle is ever raging as it should be.”
“How do you feel?”
“Hungry.” Was his only reply, and then he spied death. “Who is this?” he pointed a sagging finger at death who found it very hard not to stare. What sort of person was this?
“Oh, Adauchi! He has come to deprive us of our mutual friend.” Jachi cried.
“Can you not prevent him?” Kikou begged. The samurai known as Adauchi took one look at the sheet-wrapped bundle and howled “Of course I can!” and before he knew it, death had been grabbed by the neck and held up in the air, dislodging the basket over his head.
“No one, even death himself, can take a man if he still has business with me!” he roared. “Not death, and not his lowly assistant.”
For it was easy to see now, with the basket dislodged, that death was no more than a pale young man, as old as either farmer. The young man blinked his eyes at the sudden light and protested.
“It was merely his time to go! Death takes no judgment on who dies first! It comes to everyone equally.” Adauchi snorted, spraying red on his captive.
“Perhaps he should start taking people when the right time comes, rather than cut into my business.” He chuckled, producing a gurgling noise. “To leave so many things unfinished, so many things unsatisfied, is that his wish? You tell me, you are his assistant.” The young man squeaked in protest
“You do not mean that death, the end of all things, must cast aside for you?” the samurai shrugged heavily, his Armour heaving. “Perhaps you should put a little thought into your decisions, that is all.”
He scratched his head, and the whole top of his head opened, flapping back like a door on a hinge.
“Let me make this simple to you. No matter how much death there is in a battle, there are always battles. Right?” and he shook the young man in his fist. He sputtered his agreement. “Therefore, death is not so important as you thought. Why else would so many people on the verge of death seek me and not comfort? Death stops nothing really, so he should not take himself so seriously. People shall always pursue things, and sometimes it is just not wise to interrupt them, be it something low as happiness.” He grunted and spat, then lowered the young man to the ground.
“The village is close by. If you run, you can reach at least someone by sundown.” He gave the young man a push and sent him running, then growled in satisfaction.
He took his seat at the table, slurping down his noodles to the sound of gratitude from the farmers.
“Thank you, his wife shall be so pleased, as will his neighbors. He was very popular.” The samurai merely grunted again and finished, setting the bowl back down with a clunk. Wiping his mouth, he asked
“Is there more to this meal? One bowl of noodles is small fare for the likes of me.” The two farmers apologized.
“There was only enough for the three of us, but we have an idea. You go off and do a bit of fighting, and when you hear your name called again, there will be another meal for you.” He looked at them with his good eye.
“Will it be you again?”
“It will be someone who knows you.” Kikou assured him. The samurai thought for a moment, and then nodded his assent. Getting up laboriously and nodding to them in farewell, the samurai strode off in his shuffle, coughing several times and making his head open and close. The two friends set down their chopsticks and turned, smiling, to the bundle. They took the sheet off the top and the farmer blinked his eyes at the light.
Key:
Adauchi: revenge
Jachi: knowledge used for evil purposes
Kikou: trick; cleverness
Yoroi: samurai Armour
