Chapter 553: Iwakura National Thief
Ito Hirofumi stared at Iwakura Gushi, and after a long time, Iwawa Gushi raised his head, pointed to the healing knife mark at the corner of his mouth, and smiled: "Shunsuke, there are some things that you can understand in your heart, why force others to say it?" ”
"Iwakura Gong, this ......" Ito Hirobumi's guess became a reality, his face suddenly turned pale, and his voice became choked.
Iwakura is considered to be prepared by himself, and it is a shroud!
"What I'm walking is a road of no return, and I already knew it." Iwakura Gushi sighed, put down the chess pieces in his hand, straightened up, and looked out the window, his gaze becoming resolute.
Ito Hirobumi looked at the knife wound on the side of Iwakura's mouth, his body began to tremble, he wanted to say something, but his throat choked suddenly.
The knife wound was slashed with a knife by Ichiro Shimada, a samurai from Ishikawa Prefecture who had a heart for Saigo Takamori.
After the end of the Southwest War, the exposure of the content of the "Russo-Japanese Secret Treaty" shocked the Japanese government and the opposition, at first people did not believe the content of the secret treaty, but when the Russian army occupied Hokkaido, asked for a formal renewal of the treaty with Japan, the content of the secret treaty was confirmed, which aroused the anger of the Japanese people, and Iwakura Gushi, who presided over the signing of the secret treaty, naturally became a "traitor" hated by everyone, and some people openly claimed to kill him, Shimada Ichiro was one of them, this person actually publicly submitted a letter to the Iwakura family, claiming " must take the head of the Iwakura national thief". One day, on the way to the government in a carriage by Iwakura Gushi, Shimada and six others suddenly rushed out, first shooting at Iwakura Gushi with a pistol, and then slashing with a long knife. Shimada and six others were killed. Failed. But Iwakura Gushi still scratched the tip of Shimada's knife on his mouth, leaving that scar.
Although Shimada's assassination failed, Iwakura knew that this would not be the last.
"But...... This pair of Iwakura Gong ...... It's so unfair......" Ito said in a trembling voice.
"If I don't go to hell, who will?" Iwakura did not have the slightest sadness, "Now the situation in Japan has calmed down, the power of the great powers in Japan has been balanced, and there will be no more wars. Japan can embark on the path of development with peace of mind, and even if I die, I have no regrets. ”
Ito Hirobumi burst into tears and silently bowed to Iwakura.
"Shunsuke, don't think of me, everything I can do has been done, and the next road, no matter how difficult it is, please keep going." Iwakura bowed and bowed back.
"Don't worry! I must let a strong Japan appear in this world! Hirobumi Ito hissed.
The clouds dispersed, and the moon filled the land. Iwakura Gushi and Ito Hirobumi turned their gaze to the bright moon in the night sky.
"In life, there will be death. If you can see such a beautiful scenery and die, why are you afraid of death? Iwakura stared at the bright moon and whispered to himself.
The same moonlit night, under the same moonlight.
Shiori Mochizuki is dreaming again.
She had had a dream before in which she was going to give a horse to a man, a man with a whip in his hand.
The man was probably mute, because he never spoke, so he could only do extremely simple things, such as raising horses. He used to feed such a horse. Table, jujube red. Sexuality, bravery. Shaped, fierce. Name, there is not.
Later he gave the nameless horse, along with the long whip in his hand and the fine saddle on the horse's back, which he gave to a woman. Although a man who has lost the ability to speak will always seem a little withdrawn and silent, he is generous enough to give himself away with nothing when it comes to dealing with people.
Although he never spoke, he always made a strange noise. Perhaps, the sound is coming from his teeth, his skin, or his eyes. Whenever he feeds the horses, drives them, bathes them, or curls up in the stables and dreams, this sound comes from his body one after another.
What does that sound mean? Nobody knows. It seems to be a sound that is confined to the body of a mute. It's nothing, it doesn't represent anything. What's more: no one is curious about a mute. Then the words and deeds he can create are just as ethereal as air.
The life of a ninja is originally ethereal.
Isn't it?
One day, she dreamed of the woman, and she saw a crippled bloody horse carrying a dying woman silently through the wooden barrier of the sunset. The bodies of the blood horse and the woman were covered with bullet holes and knife marks, and the loneliness was like a long artemisia reflected in the sunset, miserable and silent. They finally fell on the beach of the Bubu swamp, little by little, struggling, and finally did not climb up.
The horse died.
Completely disappeared from the face of the earth.
When she woke up from her dream, she found herself lying in front of a burning campfire. She was desperate to recall something, even though it hurt her skull. But she still persevered, her teeth chattering as if opening the ancient and heavy gates of her memory.
She remembered the moment when the thick mud was about to make her last eye, and she saw the bronzed arm that had once made her so familiar.
The bronze color, it clings to the strong fingers in the back of a face, in the palm of a powerful hand. And like lightning, it fell down under her eyes, burning the last of the bronze of the bitter cold flame in the darkness that rushed in an instant......
And why did the bronze make her feel extremely familiar, where did she meet it, but she was confused like an amnesiac child.
Perhaps, the bronze color was just in a dream she had had long ago. A woman's dreams are always bizarre. It's easy to be moved, but it's also easy to forget.
Across the eastern foothills of the Koga Valley, in the wilderness to the south of the Daisen Corridor, stands a dilapidated temple. Two statues of gods are enshrined side by side under the broken canopy. The dust of thousands of years has long since turned them beyond recognition, except for those hollow and deep eyes, which seem to carry through every endless dark night of the Japanese archipelago.
The eyes of the idol were closed. Out of the corner of the eye, the masonry's hammer and chisel knife left a mottled blemish. Perhaps this flaw was deliberately chiseled. Because it looks like a tear.
A ruined temple. Cool idols. Graves made of rocks and rotten wood. Gloom and coldness are everywhere.
There is a strange landscape that is a rare allusion to the only warmth of the approaching autumn day. It was the hand of the idol. Their hands, the hands of stone, joined together from under their long hanging sleeves?
The solid dust could not penetrate, but the gender of the two idols was vaguely recognizable. One was a woman because her earrings were exquisite. The other was a man because his Adam's apple was like a peach. Perhaps the two gods were originally a couple who loved each other. Because of the distance of the vast universe, it can only be turned into a stubborn stone holding hands to comfort the eternal bitter love.
Whenever she approached this ruined temple like a mound. She sensed another kind of life from the lifeless atmosphere. This feeling is strong and persistent, not the stone hands that fall under the sleeves, but the eyes of the gods. Behind those deep, bottomless eyes, there may be an endless world, at least for her to hide temporarily. Because by the time she arrived, she had been cornered. There are enemies behind her, and they have been chasing her all these days, refusing to let her go. They chase her day and night, attack her, destroy her, and force her step by step towards the ninja's ultimate destiny.
Dust to dust. Soil to earth.
All living beings, stars and gods. None of them can escape.
It is not nonsense that she fled into the idol of the gods. Because she's a ninja. Ninjas are the most proficient at all kinds of hidden mechanisms.
When she escaped into the statue, she began to whimsical from the slit in the stone to the boundless wilderness outside the temple.
Seeing the stitches is her housekeeping skill. Before escaping into the idol, she had lived in a corrupt hollow for a long time, and although she was sometimes harassed by long-billed birds, this did not prevent her from continuing to hide. Until one day, the hateful moth hollows out the old tree, and when it collapses in a storm, she has to search again for a hidden spot that will not be discovered by the enemy. She also used the cover of the stream to burrow into the cave behind the waterfall. Here, her enemies are like a cowardly demon who is unaware of the water curtain. Soon after, however, the stream dried up. The cave was exposed to the scorching sun, and she had to find a new place to live again. From the shards of the sand, she was like a transparent snake crawling forward, slowly squirming at the feet of the enemy, and finally found the ruined temple.
In the ruined temple, in the body of the idol, she saw the bronze that haunted her, at the base of another idol. The bronze color could actually illuminate the entire hollow statue with a faint bleakness. Suddenly, her heart was beating wildly, and at this moment, a faint strange aura was slowly approaching her.
"Who are you?" She asked in a voice as thin as a gossamer.
"Like you, I'm a ninja." In the dimly lit corner, her question was answered with an ethereal one.
"What's your name?"
"Ape Flying Naoki."
"What a strange name."
"It's a little weird. What about you? ”
"Call me to weave poetry."
"Shiori?"
"Well, yes, my name is Shiori. Is the name good? ”
"Sounds good."
"Hey, what are you doing in the corner?"
"Like you, dodge."
"Are you hurt?"
"Yes, I'm recovering from my injuries at the same time."
"Who hurt you?"
"Samurai of Tokaido."
"Samurai from Tokaido?"
"Yes, and the savage Lucia."
"Lucia? ……”
"It's a pity that we have too few people to be their opponents."
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□
□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□ (To be continued.) If you like this work, you are welcome to come to the starting point (qidian.com) to vote for recommendation, monthly pass, and your support. That's what motivates me the most......)
PS: Ask for collection! Ask for recommendations! Ask for a subscription! Click! Ask for a commuter pass!