Chapter 38: Chapter 38: Am I Directionally Challenged?
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"Where is this place?"
"Uh... the Land of Iron, eastern town... Machino Village."
The woman looked panicked, frightened by the boy in front of her.
"Impossible! I clearly followed their direction, didn't make a single turn, and even crashed through the rocks blocking the path along the way! How am I still going in circles!" Kamihane was agitated, beginning to ramble incoherently.
He was still wearing his straw raincoat and bamboo hat, his handsome face slightly twisted, bloodshot eyes filled with disbelief.
"Um... my child needs to be fed..." The woman really didn't want to provoke this lunatic and found an excuse to slip away.
Outside the quiet town, Kamihane stood alone in the snowstorm, looking up at the sky, the swirling snowflakes reflected in his pupils.
The cold wind howled, and Kamihane finally revealed an expression of utter despair.
"Could it be... that I... am directionally challenged?"
"No! If following a fixed direction makes me get lost, then I'll just choose a random direction and walk aimlessly!"
...
One day later.
Kamihane collapsed weakly on a frozen river, sprawled out, resigned to his fate, his bamboo hat casually tossed aside, allowing the snowflakes to gradually cover his body.
"Who am I? Where am I? What am I supposed to do?"
The cold beneath him was biting, but it couldn't compare to the chill in his heart.
"Ah, so I really am directionally challenged..."
"Hahahahaha!"
"I'm directionally challenged! Hahahahaha!"
...
He went into a frenzy for a while, then inexplicably felt a wave of drowsiness. He simply closed his eyes, using the sky as his blanket and the earth as his bed, and thus fell into a deep sleep.
After all, given his current physical constitution, describing him as "invulnerable to swords and spears" would be an insult. If some foraging beast didn't mind his toughness and swallowed him whole, it might even be a good thing—perhaps it could carry him away from the Land of Iron.
After an unknown amount of time, the ice surface trembled slightly, startling Kamihane awake.
He opened his crystal-clear, flawless eyes and found himself buried under a layer of snow three fingers thick. He immediately sat up straight, shaking off all the snow from his straw raincoat.
He put his bamboo hat back on and then turned his gaze in a certain direction.
Several kilometers away, a group of several dozen people stepped onto the frozen river, making their way toward this side from a distance.
There were 5 carriages, 12 horses, and outside the carriages were 26 men and 11 women. At the front and rear of the group were two fully armed samurai, clad in silver layered armor, with two swords hanging at their waists, vigilantly scanning their surroundings.
It seemed to be a merchant caravan. The carriages were empty, likely having already unloaded their cargo and completed their delivery mission.
Kamihane retracted his gaze, a flicker of contemplation passing across his face.
Since the evolution of his eyes, even without activating the Sharingan, his vision had surpassed the Byakugan of the Hyuga clan. Although it lacked the ability to see through objects, in terms of the clarity and distance of observation, it was certainly not inferior.
At present, he could effortlessly focus on objects several kilometers away, with everything clearly falling into his view. Every tire track, every snowflake, even the moles on the faces of each person in the merchant caravan were distinctly visible.
His exceptional mental strength allowed him to effortlessly receive and process this information. No matter the environment, his eyes could automatically adjust to changes in humidity and refractive index. Even at night, his vision was as bright as daylight.
After all, these were eyes capable of penetrating the depths of the ocean trench.
Approximately ten minutes later, the merchant caravan slowly approached, and only then did the leading samurai notice Kamihane.
"Halt!" He raised one hand high, his rough and resonant voice echoing across the icy river.
The samurai approached step by step, stopping a few meters in front of Kamihane, and shouted, "Who goes there? State your name!"
"Uncle."
Kamihane displayed an expression of having narrowly escaped disaster, though it was feigned, yet inexplicably, tears welled up in his eyes.
"Uncle, could you give me a ride?"
His objective was simple; since he was directionally challenged, rather than foolishly taking a longer route, it was better to follow the locals.
The samurai narrowed his eyes, only then noticing that beneath the bamboo hat was the face of a delicate youth.
The youth had lips as red as cherries and teeth as white as jade, his gaze clear and bright, handsome to the point of resembling a girl. The pleading tone, coupled with the pitiful look in his eyes, inevitably stirred a deep sense of compassion in others.
However, the intuition of a samurai made him suppress his emotions.
"You still haven't answered my question," the samurai said, his hands resting on the hilt of his sword.
"Uncle, please don't kill me!"
Kamihane hurriedly got up, brushing the snow and ice off his pants, "I'm a fisherman. This morning, I followed my grandfather to deliver fish to the town. Who would have thought the snowstorm would be so heavy? This old geezer... my grandfather didn't even notice I fell off the cart. Uncle, I'm so scared. What is this place anyway..."
As he spoke, Kamihane began to wipe away his tears. The pitiful look on his face didn't seem feigned at all.
The wariness in the samurai's eyes lessened slightly, but his hand on the hilt of his sword didn't move away, "What's your grandfather's name?"
"Miyamoto Musashi," Kamihane replied instantly, the name slipping out without a second thought.
"Where is your home?"
"Machino Village."
"Your name."
"Miyamoto... Kamihane."
"Hmm, it seems you really are a lost child." Seeing how decisively he answered, the samurai nodded, finally believing Kamihane's story.
"Unfortunately, Machino Village is to the east, and we are heading to Takeo Castle in the west, so we cannot take you there."
Takeo, indeed, is the name of the capital city of the Land of Iron.
Kamihane excitedly ran over and grabbed the samurai's hand, "Uncle, I am actually heading to Takeo. You see, we are going to the capital to seek refuge with relatives. Once we get there, I can find my family!"
Seeing the samurai frown, Kamihane immediately sniffled and said with a tearful voice, "The weather is getting colder, and we, the coastal farmers, have had no harvest. Our income is pitiful. Now that I am lost, my grandfather must be frantic with worry..."
"Enough!" The samurai shook off Kamihane's hand, a cold glint flashing in his eyes, "Stop pretending."
"Huh?" Kamihane was stunned, unsure where the mistake had been made.
"I almost fell for your act," the samurai tightened his grip on the sword hilt and sneered, "Hmph, a child who has been out in the snow for who knows how long, yet your palms are still so warm! Even if you are not an assassin, you are certainly no ordinary person!"
"Ah, a slip in a hundred precautions," Kamihane sighed, wiping away the last trace of tears, and slowly raised his head, "What a waste of my acting skills."
A trace of crimson flashed through the distinct black and white eyes, and the samurai was momentarily stunned. Those three pitch-black tomoe resembled an unfathomable vortex, pulling all his emotions and thoughts into it.
"Believe everything I just said. Out of your great kindness, assist me in reaching Takeo Castle," Kamihane spoke softly, his calm tone exuding a destiny-like authority that brooked no defiance.
"Samurai-sama, what has happened?" A middle-aged man from the caravan approached, his expression slightly anxious. "Why aren't we moving yet? The captain is urging us..."
The samurai turned back, "Oh, it's nothing. I've encountered a child separated from his family. We'll take him along, is that alright?"
"Ah, that's a small matter. Let's hurry on our way. As long as it doesn't delay our journey, anything is fine..." The merchant quickly beckoned Kamihane, and seeing he was a child, even arranged a carriage for him.
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