The Last Conscription
The Empty Rack
Scene 1 of 3
Scene 1 of 3
Kaito knelt on the tatami.
The empty sword rack waited before him.
His spine ached from the long stillness.
The rusted fittings on the ancestor shelf caught the dying light through the paper screen.
Orange corrosion spread like blood on ancient iron.
The metal mocked him with reminders of status stripped away by the Meiji Restoration.
The government notice lay on the low table.
All former samurai must register for the new conscription army.
The final indignity that made even his lifetime of sword training meaningless.
His fingers traced the cracked wood where his daisho had hung for twenty years.
The swords were gone now.
Sold three years past to buy medicine for his mother.
The smell of neighboring families cooking seeped through the thin walls.
Miso and fish and the desperate closeness of too many lives packed into too little space.
The Nakamura clan had fallen far from the heights.
A scratching sound came from behind the plaster.
A rat searching for crumbs in the darkness.
Kaito's hand moved without thought to his hip.
The empty space where his katana had rested met his fingers.
Only air.
Only the hollow absence where honor used to live.
The paper screen rattled as someone pushed it from the hallway.
Kaito's back straightened.
He did not turn.