The Day of Thunder

[Makime Omoi]

Three years ago

“Twenty-eight paces Papa.”

“Thank you Chōjo, run along and play now.” He said, a warm smile and pat on the head distracting from the wounded look in his eyes. As the girl wandered off Omoi gazed at the tapestry he stood twenty-eight paces from and squinted.

Twenty-eight.

Omoi grumbled and walked to a low table, sitting he stared out an open window as a low mist hung over the garden; ensuring Omoi’s view was hazy and unclear. “Fitting.” He chuckled darkly, morose thoughts spinning through his head as he pulled out a fresh sheaf of parchment and dipping his brush in some ink.



Most Revered Daimyo…


The door behind Omoi softly whispered as it opened and closed as his wife quietly entered the room; Omoi grunted in acknowledgement.


“Your daughter still doesn’t understand what the numbers mean,” she remarked with a hint of concern. "I tell her that you are testing her knowledge of numbers, but she doesn’t seem to believe me."

Omoi sighed and replied, "She isn't a fool, and, to be honest, you probably don’t sound very convincing."

“I do not, it is difficult to listen to the number get smaller and smaller.”

“Then stop asking her the number. I have never told you because I don’t want to hurt you, why do you hurt yourself?”

“You take pride in hiding this from me?” She asked cooly.

“No.” He said, setting aside his brush. “But three seasons ago it was forty paces…three years ago it was the horizon. At this rate I will see the last of your smiles before the next harvest.”

He did not see it but she smiled then, thinking about the rice paddy they met in. “You have had time to come to terms with this, it’s not like we never discuss it, but you still sound surprised.”

Though his voice remained level, Omoi's face flushed a deep red. “It is not shock, it’s…frustration. Gods walk among us and have come to uplift us. I have stood in the presence of the most noble being one can hope to meet but I have never seen his face. He tells us that to die on the battlefield is the noblest of ends and though I am trained to fight I will never achieve that goal. Mikime-sama brings great honor to her ancestors and has been anointed by a God and instead of serving her with my life I now write her a letter explaining that I am a liability in battle.”

The words carried a heavy finality to them that left a chilling silence as Omoi returned to the letter.


...my great shame…



“You said that twenty paces should be enough for a bodyguard.” She asked.

“To protect a village elder maybe but not the leader of a family like I had hoped. I can hardly take an arrow for my lord if I can’t see the archer.”



...As Akodo-kami’s teachings say…


“As a sensei then, teaching others?” She asked, sitting behind him as he wrote.

“Unlikely. I am an average swordsman at best. Alodo-kami’s formations and tactics gave me a chance at being useful but in the heat of battle you cannot hesitate; you must be certain about friend and foe.”

Dark spots began to appear on the mat below Omoi’s wife. “Does it have to be this way? The way you explained it…”

“I was simply explaining what could happen, but if she commands it I will not hesitate. I will not go down in history as the first Lion to forsake their oath. I will not shame my family and my ancestors over ego.”

“It will not come to that.”

“Let us hope.”


...my honor demands…


They sat in silence for long moments as Omoi wrote his letter, his wife only breaking the silence once Omoi set down his brush; a single sniffle preceding her voice. As she stood she looked down at the wet stain in the mat. “We have a leak in the roof, I will fetch a bowl and see it gets repaired.” As she turned and walked to the door Omoi looked down at the water stained parchment and began folding it.

“Yes, we should replace the roof.”