The fire crackled gently, its warmth licking the wooden beams of the house as snow fell steadily outside. For a long moment after Mamoru had dashed into his room, the two men remained silent, listening to the boy's excited rummaging echo down the hall. The sound of drawers sliding open, the thump of hurried footsteps, and the metallic scrape of a blade being lifted from its stand brought a faint smile to Ushimaru's lips.
Oden leaned back, folding his arms. His wild hair framed his face in shadows, his grin dimmed into something softer, almost contemplative. "You know," he began, voice lower than before, "you didn't really answer me earlier. Why let your boy go with me? You could teach him swordsmanship here, you could prepare him under your own eye , infact you are a better teacher for him more than I . Yet you send him off with me, a man who dances naked in the streets, mocked by half the country."
Ushimaru's eyes, steady and sharp, flicked to Oden. His features softened for a breath, then he exhaled, as though weighing his words carefully. "Because, Lord Oden… there are things even I cannot teach him. Things he has to see for himself."
Oden raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Such as?"
"The state of Wano." Ushimaru's voice was firm, tinged with quiet sadness. "I want Mamoru to see the land with his own eyes. To see the injustices that lurk in every village, every field now tainted by Orochi's rule. He still holds on to childish beliefs—that battles are fair, that good triumphs neatly over evil, that strength is enough to shape the world. But the world is not fair. He needs to understand that now, while he is young enough to shape his heart without it breaking."
For a moment, Oden said nothing. His eyes—eyes that had once looked upon endless seas, upon giants, and upon gods of strength—narrowed thoughtfully.
Ushimaru leaned back, resting one hand on the table, his other curling loosely around his cup of tea. "There is also his… unusual sense of direction," he said with a wry twist of his lips.
(A/N: it runs in Shimotsuki family , Ryuma must have had it as well....)
Oden blinked, then chuckled. "Sense of direction?"
"Yes." Ushimaru's stern composure broke, just for a moment, into an amused smile. "It's abysmal. Truly abysmal. He can get lost walking on a straight path. Once, I told him to walk to the river by following a single dirt road without turning. Do you know what happened? I found him three hours later, climbing a hill on the opposite side of the district."
Oden threw his head back with a booming laugh, clutching his stomach. "HAHAHAH! Incredible! Can someonereallyhave such a bad sense of direction!"
Ushimaru smirked. "Yes but that is precisely why I want him to travel. I expect him to get lost. To stumble across places and people I cannot personally take him to. And when he does, he'll see the truth of our land for himself. The factories, the hunger, the raids. Not through my words, but with his own eyes."
Oden's laughter softened, fading into a thoughtful hum. He thought about what a vermin Orochi was , he wants nothing more than to kill him with his own hands , but they made a promise. He studied Ushimaru's face, the lines of responsibility etched deeper than before, the weary shadow in his gaze. "You're letting him wander into hardship on purpose. You'd rather he faces the world's cruelty now than have it crush him later."
"Yes." Ushimaru's voice was steady, quiet, and resolute. "If he learns while he still has the safety of returning to me, he'll grow wiser, stronger, less fragile. Otherwise, the world will teach him lessons with no mercy and it could break him. Can I be blamed ,he's my son after all . Truly a child could be a parents greatest weakness."
Oden nodded in agreement with that statement, he thought of his children back home .
Silence hung between them, broken only by the pop of firewood.
After a long pause, Ushimaru added, "Do not mistake me, He is not helpless. I have trained him with the sword since he was five. I've taken him with me into skirmishes—bandits, pirates raiding the eternal graveside. He's faced men with real steel in their hands and he learns quickly . He is still a child, but already a prodigy. He knows when to stand and when to retreat."
He gave a small, dry chuckle. "Besides, I'll send Onimaru to watch over him. At least that way, he'll find his way back home eventually. " Ushimaru's gaze flicked toward the sliding door, the corners of his mouth curving into something halfway between amusement and concern.
Oden's booming laugh filled the room again. He slapped the table with such force the teacups rattled. "You're remarkable, Ushimaru. Most fathers would shield their sons from the world, keep them close until they're men. But you " His grin softened into something rare, a look of admiration. "You want him to walk through the fire now, so that later, he'll stride through flames without fear. That's… that's the mark of a great father. I should take tips from you"
Ushimaru didn't reply immediately. His gaze drifted toward the hallway where Mamoru's voice carried faintly as he muttered to himself, preparing his things. His lips pressed together, hiding the emotion that flickered briefly in his eyes. "…Perhaps or maybe I am selfish, wanting him to grow faster because of my fears and worry "
At that very moment, the sliding door creaked open. Mamoru stepped out, both hands gripping the sheath of his sword.
The blade—Yoriichi—was still too long for his small frame, forcing him to carry it like a staff in his hand rather than at his hip. Yet he bore it with dignity, his young face set in determination. He wore a loose white robe, tied simply at the waist, his feet clad in clean white socks and sturdy sandals. Draped across his shoulders rested his navy-blue haori, too large for him still, its hem swaying slightly as he moved.
He stood there for a moment, framed by the light of the fire behind him. His messy navy blue hair was combed back , sharp features carrying an echo of what he would one day become. He looked at both men—his father and Lord Oden—with a seriousness that seemed older than his ten years.
"I'm ready," Mamoru said, bowing lightly, his grip tightening on the sword at his side.
Ushimaru's eyes softened. He saw both the child and the warrior reflected in his son's stance. " Mamoru," he said, his voice calm but heavy with meaning, "observe everything ,observe the people, the land, the world itself. What you see will become your strength."
Mamoru nodded firmly, though inside his chest his heart thundered with excitement.
Oden grinned wide, his teeth flashing. "Hah! Look at you! You've got spirit in your eyes already. Good! You'll fit right in with me. Come on, boy—we leave for Kuri!"
Mamoru stepped forward, his sandals scuffing softly against the tatami as he moved to Oden's side. His eyes flicked once toward his father.
Ushimaru met his gaze, giving the slightest nod , a silent assurance.
And just like that, Mamoru turned, his navy-blue haori swaying as he followed Kozuki Oden into the snow-lit night, Onimaru padding close behind.
Ushimaru remained in the doorway, watching the trio's silhouettes fade into the falling snow. For a long moment, he stood alone, the weight of both hope and worry pressing upon him. Then, quietly, he whispered into the cold:
"See the world well, my son… before it sees you."