The days blurred into a rhythm that Elias found both exhausting and grounding. Mornings began with the village's quiet awakening—the creak of wooden doors, the splash of water from the well, the low murmur of conversation as families prepared for the fields. Elias rose early now, his body adapting to the hard futon and the chill that lingered until the sun climbed high enough to warm the thatched roofs. His palms had toughened into calluses from the hoe and sword grip alike, blisters long scabbed over.
Language had become second nature. What started as fragmented phrases and careful parsing now flowed effortlessly in his mind—conversations registering as clear English, accents and inflections translating seamlessly. He still spoke with a slight foreign lilt, vowels occasionally flat, but no one commented anymore. Immersion had done its work; the barrier was gone.
Kiyomi was often the first face he saw, kneeling by the hearth with her olive kosode tied back, stirring the morning gruel. Her ebony curls were pinned up practically for work, a few strands escaping to frame her face. She looked up as he entered the main room, her jade eyes softening. "Good morning, Elias. Sleep okay? I saved you the bigger portion today."
He smiled—genuine, unforced. "Morning. Yeah, slept fine. Thanks—you didn't have to."
She waved it off, ladling the thick okayu into his bowl. "You work harder than anyone. Need the strength." Her voice was soft, nurturing as always, but there was a warmth in it that went beyond duty. Elias felt it mirror in himself; her presence had become a quiet anchor. He cared for her deeply now—not just as a practical ally, but as someone whose smile eased the era's harsh edges.
Hiroshi joined them, slurping his tea noisily. "Eat up. Today we finish the palisade. Scouts say Nobunaga's men are moving closer—gathering forces north of here."
Elias nodded, spooning the warm gruel. The bland rice was comforting now, flavored with a dash of miso. "How close?"
"Close enough that refugees are trickling in. We'll hear more today, probably." Hiroshi's face was grim. "If Imagawa marches, this village is in the path."
Elias kept his expression neutral. He knew the timeline—Okehazama was weeks away, Nobunaga's ambush brewing. But revealing too much risked suspicion. Instead, subtle counsel: "We should set watches on the hills. Early warning gives time to hide or fight."
Hiroshi grunted agreement. "Smart. You'll lead one?"
"Yeah. I'll take it."
After breakfast, the village mobilized. Men hauled final bamboo poles, women reinforced with mud packing. Elias worked alongside Taro—the sturdy ashigaru who'd become his sparring partner. Taro was in his mid-twenties, broad-shouldered with a scarred cheek from some old skirmish, loyal to the village but pragmatic like Elias.
"You fight like no one I've seen," Taro said, lashing a stake. "That straight sword—where'd you really learn it?"
"Far away," Elias replied, hammering a brace. "Different style. Focuses on thrust and distance."
Taro chuckled. "Show me again later? My katana feels clumsy against it."
"Sure. After work."
Kiyomi passed with a basket of tools, pausing. "Be careful today. I heard more bandit talk."
Elias met her worried gaze. "We will. Don't worry—I'll watch out."
Her hand brushed his arm briefly. "I know. Just... come back safe."
The touch lingered, affection clear. Elias felt a surge—protective, loving. *She's become essential. Not just for the plan—for me.*
Midday brought the refugees: a ragged family of five, clothes torn, faces gaunt. The village headman gathered everyone in the central clearing. The father, a former farmer, spoke hoarsely: "Our village burned. Nobunaga's men—or Imagawa's scouts, hard to tell. They took the rice, killed who resisted."
Murmurs rippled: "How many soldiers?"
"Hundreds moving. Nobunaga calls it 'unification,' but it's fire and sword."
Elias listened, internal calculations running. Nobunaga's aggressive push—historical, but seeing the human cost hit harder. Refugees meant mouths to feed, but also labor, information. Pragmatic gain, but the hollow eyes unsettled him.
Hiroshi turned to Elias. "What do you think? Can we hold if they come here?"
Elias chose words carefully. "Not against an army. But scouts or bandits—we can. Hide valuables, prepare escapes into the hills. Ambush if needed."
The headman nodded. "Sound advice. You're no ordinary traveler."
Subtle aura stirred—whispers: "His eyes... like he sees the future."
Afternoon: sparring. Elias faced Taro in the clearing, villagers watching. Taro's katana flashed in curved arcs; Elias parried with guards, countering thrusts.
"Too wide—close the distance," Elias instructed.
Taro adjusted, sweating. "Like this? Damn, it works."
Kenji—the suspicious rival samurai from the edge group—watched from afar, arms crossed. Elias noted him: potential foil, eyes narrowed.
As sun dipped, Kiyomi found Elias cleaning his sword. "You taught them well today. Taro says you're making everyone stronger."
"It's necessary." He sheathed the blade. "War's coming closer."
She sat beside him, voice soft. "I'm scared. If soldiers come... what happens to us?"
Elias took her hand—gentle, reassuring. "I'll protect you. This village. We prepare, we survive."
Her fingers squeezed his. "I believe you. You've already changed everything."
Affection deepened—love, real and steady. Elias pulled her closer briefly. "And you—you make it worth it."
Night fell with distant drums—war signals? Village watches set. Elias took first shift, sword ready.
Internal: Nobunaga's advance—opportunity knocking. Counsel subtly, build loyalty. Ambition stirred, tempered by care for Kiyomi, the village.
Tomorrow: more news, more bonds.