M The Moon Wants a Vacation

[Miyamoto Musashi]

“Thud!” groaned the straw-made target as an arrow pierced its surface. Position wise, it wasn’t a bullseye, rather, it was on the ring right next to it. An imperfect shot, among others. Looking at the target, eight other arrows sat there, all grouped near the same spot, none of them finding their mark at the dead center of the circle.

“Haah.” a figure exhaled as their right hand reached for another arrow from the quiver on their side. The quiver now devoid of arrows as the last one left its confines simply hung there at their side.

The archer was facing the range sideways, slowly bringing their bow arm in front of them as the other brought the arrow, setting it between their fingers before pushing it forward and finally, nocking it.

The bow was asymmetric, having a short, mildly curved bottom limb, and an extremely tall top limb with more drastic curvature. The handle was placed so that it was not at the center of these two halves, leaving the entire machination to look rather strange if unseen before..

Setting their fingers onto the string they began to lift the bow before them, arms creeping toward the sky. Finally, as the bow grip of the bow reached high above the archer’s eyeline, the bow arm began to push the bow forward, whilst slowly bringing it downward. Upon creeping closer, the string-arm began to pull back, taking the arrow and its string behind their ear as the arrow reached eye level. Finding its anchor there, their arms inched down but a minutiae more, the arrow lining up with their lips.

Seated there, the archer watched forward, ever unbreathing as their aim reached finality.
“Twhip!” the string shot forward, brushing past their face as the arrow launched forward, howling through the air but for the shortest of moments.

“Thud.” There it sat, with its nine friends, off center but tightly grouped.

“Your arms are out of balance, Lady Tsukuyomi.” chided in a male voice from behind her, creaking from its seams with the burden of age. “You must work to achieve true balance in all things. Only that way shall your aim become true, in bow, spear and sword alike.” he continued his monologue, before trailing off.

Tsukuyomi, a raven haired girl with a face as stunning as the full moon on a dark night, pushed back the frustration in her voice, burying it somewhere as she forced herself to turn and bow toward the man in respect. “Thank you for your guidance, Master.”

“We are done today. I expect to see you again first thing tomorrow, Lady Tsukuyomi.” the old man croned,

“As you wish, master.” she noted with a small bow once more. That concluded today’s training in kyudo. One hundred shots in total, every morning. She had been stalled upon this level for a while now, her groupings ever tight but aim off center.

First, the archer unstrung the bow, squeezing the limbs together and quickly slipping off the string from one end. For a moment, she inspected first the wooden frame for any cracks or imperfections. Satisfied in finding none, her attention turned to the string, running her fingers nimbly over the now loose instrument. “Hm. Lightly frayed.” the archer noted. “I must wax it after next time.” she muttered to herself, even as she set the bow down upon a stand meant for it.

Making her way down the range, Tsukuyomi finally reached the target that was placed a considerable distance away from the shooting position, likely 75 meters or so away. Staring at the grouping, her teeth gritted. A finger’s length off the center, yet grouped tightly together. The girl’s shoulders shook ever so slightly as she reached forward, placed both hands upon the shaft of an arrow of her choice, and pulled it straight back.

The arrows popping free of the target, were returned to the quiver, which was then returned onto a stand meant for it, right next to the bow. There they awaited, for tomorrow morning. Upon which, they’d be fired another hundred times, only to be just as off-center as the previous hundred shots.

"God damnit." Swallowing back the frustration, she took a scroll she’d left upon the nearby counter and rolled the parchment open, eyeing the text before she rolled it back shut and placed it back where it'd come from.

So up next was… kenjutsu. After that, lunch. After that, yari training. After that, strategy studies. After that, calligraphy studies. Dinner. Reception with her father. Bushido studies. Sleep.

Studies studies studies. Jump! Duck! Clap your hands! Twirl around!

“Aaarrghhhhh.” Tsukuyomi groaned internally. This would be a long day.

 

[Miyamoto Musashi]

Sliding open the door Tsukuyomi stepped through. The martial dojo was connected directly to the archery range, meaning she needn’t travel excessively to reach her next lesson. For now, the dojo was empty - her sensei had yet to arrive for today. Wooden floor surrounded the tatami-covered center, the sides of the room lined with different kinds of weapon racks from wooden swords of many lengths, to spears and even kanabos. Hung upon the wall, were a few real weapons on display.

The girl knew they were kept sharp, but weren’t particularly owned by anyone as their personal weapons. They were simply kept here for sparring purposes, when real weaponry was required. After all, one could not perform cutting tests with wooden weapons.

When was the last time she’d had a day without training or other interruptions, nuisances and endless tutoring? Gah. GAH! Sighing deeply, the raven haired girl clad in a white shirt and dark blue hakama seated herself in a seiza near the middle of the tatami.

Closing her eyes, she allowed her mind to drift even further from the moment than it already had. Honestly, what she would’ve done for a day off. But of course, even then she was certain that trouble would find her. Be it a citizen in need or the Shinsengumi requiring special assistance on a mission.

Or her father needing this, that, something or the other. He always did.

“Lady Tsukuyomi?” came a male voice from her side.

GAH!!! The girl shot into the ceiling startled, hanging from the boards by her head…
Or, that’s what she would’ve liked to do, at least. But, as such, she slowly opened her eyes and turned her head, her eyes coming to face the man standing by her side, middle aged. Carrying in his hands, a sheathed katana. No doubt for today’s training session.

“Ah, sensei. You’ve come.” she noted, as the other made their way in front of her. Her gaze followed, as she finally bowed to the man.

“I look forward to your instruction today.” Lie? Truth? Honestly, by now she didn’t know. She appreciated the man’s tutelage and respected their skill, most certainly. But today? Today she would’ve rather been chewing a blade of grass or skipping rocks across the pond in the garden.

Gaaaaaahhhhhhhhh…………….. And the yearly exams were coming up too. Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy? Why her? Why not someone else for a day?

Pushing the repulsion down once more as she forced herself back into the present. “How shall we train today, sensei?” she asked, remaining seated as he looked up to the still standing man, awaiting their instruction.

“Today, Lady Tsukuyomi, I would like you to perform a hundred swings, before we shall perform a cutting test, on bamboo. We shall start with one trunk four, moving onto five, and six finally.” he explained. “As you well know, the exams shall consist of cutting seven bamboo trunks simultaneously.”

“Mm. Then so it shall be, Sensei.” she gave a slight bow in respect before rising up from her seiza. As she did so, the man offered the blade he’d brought with him to her, which she graciously accepted.

Most others her age - twenty some summers old - didn’t train as rigorously nor thoroughly as she did. But, her father allowed nothing less. Despite the fact that she was a well established Samurai by now, the training was endless. According to his words, so it had always been in the Niwa clan, and so it would always be.

Taking a few steps back, she slowly drew the blade and set the saya onto the ground beside her. Taking a stance, one leg slightly forward and one slightly back, the girl raised the blade.

“Hya!” she exhaled, the sword brought down in a swift cutting motion, a satisfying swish cutting through the air with her swing.

“One.” counted the man from the side. “Do not raise your blade too high.”

Slowly, the sword was brought back up, before the girl struck once more. Swish.

Swish.

Swish.

Swish.

Swish.

“Seven.” the voice continued.

Oh man. This would never end. Or well. It would. In exactly ninety three more swings.

And it was only the second lesson of today’s. This would be a long day.

 

[Miyamoto Musashi]

Swish.

Swish.

“And one hundred.” counted the voice, now coming from behind Tsukuyomi.

“Haaah…” she exhaled slowly, allowing her hands to slowly lower the blade. Her forehead glistened with sweat, muscles aching from the exertion of power and finesse for a hundred strikes in a row, without breaks.

Honestly, the Samurai still remembered her first time on this merry-go-around. After the first session, she could’ve sworn her arms would’ve fallen right off from the slightest breeze. But, somehow she’d survived, most likely thanks to the various opportunities available to her, such as massages to help loosen her wearied muscles.

Not to mention, that she’d just previously been pulling the string of the yumi, releasing one arrow after another to fly down the range in the next room. Yet all of this was just what was expected of her. As the daughter of the Shogun of Shimosa, the expectations placed upon her to surpass any and all warriors - including her father - ran high, and it was something she couldn’t escape from. Her responsibilities didn’t take a day off, and as such, neither could she.

“Excellent! Now, to the cutting test!” chimed the man from behind her, as the girl turned around. Before her were three stands with bamboo atop them. The first one had four trunks, and the two after each had one more than the previous one. At worst she’d have to cut through six.

The problem was, cutting through them was easy. It was the finesse of the cut that was truly challenging. Any man could hack the bamboo to pieces, but control and precision was required to cut it cleanly. And just like her responsibilities, this test didn’t wait either. She got no rest, no vacation.

“Alright then, let us get started.” her trainer noted. “Whenever you’re ready.” Honestly, his voice was indifferent. He’d been training her for a year or so now, and clearly he didn’t expect much progress from her anymore. He knew she’d pass her final exams, but he also knew that cutting seven bamboo trunks flawlessly was something one only achieved through a lifetime of training and dedication to the art.

Stepping forward, Tsukuyomi took a deep breath before the bamboo stand, slowly raising her blade into a high stance, her eyes steeled as her mind sharpened the intention to cut through into a fine blade of its own. She would cut through without mercy.

SCHWING! The sword flashed as it ripped through the air, arriving at the other side of the stood up bamboo trunks. The bamboo remained unchanged, still standing. The cut had missed.

Or so a less refined eye would’ve thought. Slowly, the tops began to slide and thudded onto the tatami below, clattering to one another. The line of the cut however, was not completely straight. At the last trunk, one could see a small curvature to the swing.

“Your arms are out of balance, Lady Tsukuyomi.” chided in her sensei, his eyes catching the imbalance of the cut at the end. “If you wish to reach the very peak of kenjutsu, you must refine your control over both of your arms. You must reach an unprecedented state of balance, as have those that came before you.”

“Yes, sensei.” she noted, fighting to keep back the frustration from her voice. Honestly, she wanted to scream. Throw the sword. Kick the bamboo. Break something. Run around. Have a meltdown of some kind. But of course, such wasn’t befitting for her position as practically the Princess of Shimosa. And as such, she simply took a few steps to the side, reaching the second stand.

SCHWING! Another strike, similar to the last. Of course, the extra bamboo trunk for the second and third strikes alike only served to better bring forward the curvature that appeared at the end of her strike, as the samurai’s arms ceased to work in perfect harmony and drove the blade into a curving arc.

“You must rectify this issue, Lady Tsukuyomi. You may think it matters not, but a true warrior’s cut is as straight as their back.” The girl got lectured, showing no signs of stopping. “For one to follow the bushido, their honour must be impeccable. Their adherence to the Bushido-code stainless. Only then, can their cuts ring true and have they reached the peak of kenjutsu.”

“Yes, sensei.” she bowed respectfully, before slowly taking up the discarded saya from the ground, and sheathing the sword with rapid, precise movements. Afterward, she offered the sword back to her master, which they accepted.

“We are done for today. Clean this up.” he noted as he turned to walk away. “Oh, and I expect to see you tomorrow at the same time.” he added nonchalantly before he stepped through the sliding doors, disappearing from view.

Tsukuyomi stared at the door blankly before her eyes slowly turned to the two dozens of bamboo trunks scattered across the stands and the tatami mat. And the stands themselves. And the fact that as per the dojo rules, one should wipe the tatami clean after use, making certain that it was ready for those that came after.

Slowly the exhausted girl sank onto her knees, before a non-existent breeze toppled her over, crashing her onto the tatami mat.

Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?

 

[Miyamoto Musashi]

As she simply laid there on the cool tatami, the shogun’s daughter grimaced. It wasn’t like there was helping it, someone would have to clean it, and it fell upon the user of the dojo to do so. She would’ve been reprimanded for using servants for such a matter. And as honour was everything, she had little choice.

Rolling over the girl pushed herself up from the floor, before making her way over to the weapons rack, before picking up a bo-staff. A wooden staff, akin to a spear without the spear tip. Since she had to clean up, she might as well have some fun with the matter, given no one would see her.

Making her way over to the piles of split bamboo trunks, the girl struck her staff in a thrust toward the scattered horde. Her aim was true, skewering the hollow bamboo trunk through it’s core even as she raised and spun the staff in a rash motion.

Fwip! The bamboo trunk flew off the staff’s head towards the nearby wall, fleeing from the weapon with all the haste of a criminal on the run from the Shinsengumi. It flew straight, launched with surprising accuracy considering the rashness of the Samurai’s motions.

Even then, the bo-staff was already in renewed motion, picking up another trunk and sending it flying once more.

Clank! The first one struck the wall, its motion halted with a loud noise, bouncing backward slightly before falling straight down, toward the floor.

Thwup. Luckily below it, rather than the floor, awaited the gaping maw of a waste basket.

Clank! Thwup.

Fwip! Clank! Thwup.

Fwip! Clank! Thwup.

Twirling the staff, the raven-haired girl sent trunk after trunk of bamboo flying and clattering into the wall, before being collected by the waste basket. A satisfied grin danced upon the samurai’s visage as she had turned the chore into something that for once allowed her to have just the tiniest bit of amusement in her day.

Fwip! Clank! “TSUKUYOMI NIWA! What in the WORLD are you doing?!” echoed an angry female voice across the dojo, instantly freezing the girl in place as the happiness vanished from her face, along with the colour as she paled.

“Damnit.” she thought to herself.

Thwup. The quiet thud of the latest bamboo trunk was most certainly the loudest sound in the entire palatial district right now. But, at least the world’s most awkward silence didn’t last long.

It never did, when she was caught like this. At least when it was her. “If your FATHER saw you like this, he would be so disappointed! You've brought shame to the honour of this esteemed dojo of the Niwa clan with your antics, girl! How dare you?!” the woman fumed on, without any signs of her immediate rage abating. “Think of your father and his honour, this is not befit for the daughter of the Shogun, stupid girl!”

The lecture turned into a chastising session continued, even as the twenty-something girl opted to stare at her feet, head lowered. Simply awaiting for the outburst to end. Simply awaiting for her chance to escape the situation and continue her clean up, so that she could leave for her short lunch before her lessons continued. Strategy, this time.

“Yes mother. I’m sorry mother. It will not happen again, mother.” Tsukuyomi finally spoke, her voice suppressed as she picked up the final pieces of bamboo from the ground, taking them to the waste container by hand.

Whilst returning the bo-staff under her mother’s watchful eye, she grabbed the broom and began to sweep the entirety of the tatami mat clean, bringing the chipped off bamboo over to the waste basket, into which she dumped it with the small shovel-apparatus.

Turning face toward her similarly raven-haired mother whom was clad in an intricate white and red kimono, Tsukuyomi looked up at the woman as she brought the words upon her lips. “May I excuse myself for my lunch, mother?”

Her voice was continually repressed, holding back whatever emotions she wanted to fling at the woman’s face. Was it really so bad that she’d decided to do the clean up both efficiently, and through training her capabilities for battle at the same time?!

“Goddamnit.” she thought to herself, her day infinitely worse for the wear now.

“You may, girl.” she noted, stepping aside from the door and allowing the chastised Samurai to pass by, the girl leaving for her first small break of the day. “Thank you, mother.” were the only words offered to the woman as she passed.

This was already a long day. And it was barely halfway through.

 

[Miyamoto Musashi]

Flitting through the various stairways and hallways of the palace, Tsukuyomi hurried herself into the second floor where the dining hall resided. There, her dinner had already been served - signifying that it was she herself, that was late. Regardless of her stature as the heiress of the Shogun, the man who owned this very palace, the servants waited none. After all, they had more folk to tend to, than just herself.

As such, her food had been left there upon the table with the knowledge that she would arrive sooner or later - or go without her meal, if not. Regardless, she made her way through the large hall, designed to accommodate a plethora of guests. Due to that nature, it was lavish in decor, and impressive to one’s eye.

Of course, all that went completely unnoticed by the Samurai who’d lived here all her life, even as she sat down, hoisting herself over the long bench and faced the few dishes now in front of her.

Firstly, a bowl of rice - as always. Secondly, a plate of grilled fish. Thirdly, a tiny bowl of soy sauce for condiments, as well as a cup of tea that still wafted steam from it. As such, she was only a few minutes late at worst. A bit further from the condiment of dishes, a larger container with a lid on top that would be filled with rice, as well as a teapot with more of the hot drink.

On the side, a pair of chopsticks were placed. This pair was highly decorated and ornamental - they were her personal pair reserved for only her usage. Of course, each member of her family had such a pair.

Bringing her palms together in front of her, the girl bowed ever so slightly toward it, muttering a thank you for the gods. Whilst she was in a hurry, it would do her no good to disrespect the gods, lest they turn their backs upon Shimosa or her father.

Satisfied with the gratitude offered to the heavens above, the samurai was ready to eat. Taking the pair of chopsticks into her right hand and maneuvering a dexterous hold of the utensils between her fingers, the girl dumped the soy sauce into the rice, before stirring the contents up thoroughly, making certain that the flavour would spread evenly.

Taking a quick glance around the surrounding hall, she ascertained that there were no overzealous mothers or snark-happy servants around, before she dug in with haste, lacking grace in her dining.

Honestly, she simply didn’t have time for a proper lunch today - not after the altercation with her mother anyway. As such, the rice was devoured in mere moments, the pair of sticks next laying siege upon the fish, chopping it into bits, digging the flesh and tearing it off of the skin as she brutalized the once beautiful dish, stuffing it into her mouth.

Her lunch was short on the best of days, but today’s was more like non-existent, she thought with a sigh as she reached for the cup of tea. Her fingers wrapping around the cup, bringing it to her lips and taking a small sip.

Not yet cold, but no longer scalding hot. The beverage had had just enough time to sit to reach the kind of temperature where she could simply pour it brutishly down her throat, consuming it.

And as such, she was off. On her way to yet another lesson of today’s curriculum, never ending in nature.

 

[Miyamoto Musashi]

Tsukuyomi rushed throughout the various hallways of the palace. From the second floor dining hall, she would have to ascend three floors into the fifth to reach the palace library, where her mental studies often took place. Most commonly things such as calligraphy and strategy were held in the library.

Casting a glance up and down the palace stairwell, she quickly ascertained that there were no other users there, as her feet sped up into something closer to that of a sprint up the stairs. Sensei despised tardiness, and with her mother’s interruption and delay of her lunch, she was already running late.

Of course, should someone see the Shogun’s daughter running through the stairways, galloping pairs of stairs at once like lightning possessed, they would just delay her further. But, such was the risk she had chosen to take this time. Whether it would pay off, was in the end inconsequential, she would be late regardless.

Skidding to a halt at the platform between floors, the girl straightened herself as she slid the door open and stepped into the fifth floor. Her physique was most certainly well trained enough that she was capable of masking her exertion through deep breaths. Although her skin had the tiniest hints of sheen to it, glistening in the light.

Honestly, the fifth floor would’ve been a new-comer’s worst enemy. Hallways and corners endlessly one after another, snaking mercilessly throughout the building with countless doors and rooms. But, her advantage was that she’d lived her whole life here, gotten used to the path. A scratch on that pole, a ding in the door frame over there.

After what felt like an eternity in the hallways, Tsukuyomi finally arrived before a pair of large sliding doors that she quickly slid aside and slipped through. The doors were particularly well kept, sliding effortlessly and offering no creak or moan as they did so.

Having entered, the girl remained back-facing to the room as she worked to pull the doors closed behind her, the girl spoke out. “Sensei, I apologize for my lateness,” her task finished, Tsukuyomi turned to face the expected elder and offered an apologetic bow. It was just that as she rose from her slight bow, she took note of the seated old woman’s expression.

And it wasn’t that of awaiting frustration, which danced upon those wrinkles that hid a beautiful face from the bygone days. The expression was that of surprise. Tsukuyomi’s heart sank faster than she had ascended the stairs. Sensei didn’t expect her. She was at the wrong place. The current lesson wasn’t that of strategy. It was something else entirely.

The wrinkled woman finally spoke as her voice couldn’t hide the burden of her age, creaking from its seams. “Girl, our strategy lessons are your next period. For now, you should be somewhere else.”

Of course, this only served to sink the samurai deeper into despair. She’d really messed up now. And as the Shogun’s daughter? She wasn’t given the chance for these kinds of mess-ups to be acceptable. Tsukuyomi was expected to be as impeccable as the full moon on a dark night. And yet, here she was, a crescent moon at best. Failing to even arrive at the correct place at the right time. Damnit.

Cursing herself out in her head, the girl offered a slight apologetic bow once more. “Sensei is correct. I apologize for my blunder. Now, if you would please excuse me.” she apologized despite not feeling like doing so, before slipping through the doors once more.

Shaking, Tsukuyomi’s hands dove into her robes as she sought for the parchment scroll that held her timetable that would reveal where the hell she was supposed to currently be at. It was only that, the scroll was nowhere to be found. Not tucked away in the folds, not hidden in her sleeves.

Nowhere.

Because she’d stormed out of the dojo on the fourth floor and left it there. On the counter. Where it still remained, unless her mother had decided to helpfully collect it and throw it away, to aid her beloved daughter’s already simple and easy going life.

Fuck.

And so, the Moon of Shimosa broke out into a brisk walk, not daring to sprint throughout the hallways, in fear of a lurking monstrosity in the form of her mother, seeking for any and all opportunities to get on her case.

Just one day off? Pleaaase?