Eye of the Beholder

‘How had this happened?’ Hatanaka wondered for, perhaps (or so it seemed to him), the one-millionth time. His eyes surveyed the small, cozy room in which he sat then immediately glanced up; the raucous male laughter he heard just outside the tiny, opened window disturbing his maudlin reverie.

‘Ah, how the mighty hath fallen!’ The thought came, as it always did when he reflected upon his fate, which was often, and Hatanaka sighed. “To think,” he said to himself, shaking his graying head, “that I, the once great Kazuya Hatanaka should be reduced to such as this…” Here he spread his hands, taking in the bare contents of the small room. “…living in this… this hovel,” he practically spat the last word as his eyes continued their wandering.

18 months…..

Had it really only been a year and a half since he’d presided over what amounted to a small empire; the toast of royalty; and the envy of his peers? Yet now, nothing remained of his former glory: his fleet ruined; three ships lost at sea, and the remainder laying in their own watery grave, victims of the typhoon that had struck the port city so ferociously, and completely without warning. His vast wealth, so inextricably tied to those ships, was gone as well. Gone, too, was the magnificent manor house of which he was justifiably proud. All of it taken in one fell swoop, for the Fates had not been kind, and he was left with nothing.

Not quite nothing, however, he reflected. There was still this place: a small cottage with its tiny patch of farmland far from the city he’d so loved. Yet even this was not truly his; for the house and land had once belonged to his beloved second wife, Shiori; left to her son upon her death.

It galled Hatanaka to have been reduced to such a state; the bitter brew of this existence his daily drink. A peasant! The former noble now nothing more than a lowly farmer; living here under the forbearance of his stepson; though, to give Kurama his due, the boy had never made him feel the failure HE saw himself to be. Rather, the boy seemed to thrive on this new life, for to him, it was a homecoming of sorts… coming back to the life he once knew. Shuuichi, as well, took to his new surroundings and way of life with the exuberance that only the young seemed capable of managing.

Indeed, between the two of his sons, they’d devised their own scheme for running the household, leaving Hatanaka with little else to do but brood… a task he was only to happy to accomplish.

Kurama, in addition to the housekeeping and cooking all their meals, tended the bit of land; toiling the soil, sowing the seeds, watching over his crops as tenderly as any father would have cared for his children, and then harvesting the fruits of his labors. In this, he was joined by one of his two childhood friends: a big, strapping lad of 17 with a shock of carrot-colored hair who went by the unlikely name of Kazuma Kuwabara. It was Kuwabara who’d suggested that Kurama join his plot to the other boy’s and farm them together, sharing equally in the bounty; an idea to which his stepson readily agreed.

To many, and Hatanaka counted himself among this august company, Kuwabara appeared to be a dolt, though even he had to admit the lad did have a keen sense of honor, as well as courage. Awkward, and due to his large size, ungainly; with a voice that was loud, rough and just plain obnoxious coupled with a laugh that was more donkey’s bray than not, Hatanaka marveled that the big buffoon could have wooed, let alone won, the gentle heart of the lovely young woman he’d married.

Yukina… she of the soft, pale green curls the color of turquoise and eyes a chestnut brown that in certain light looked almost crimson was the polar opposite of her loutish husband. As petite as Kuwabara was tall, she was a soft-spoken, some might even venture to say timid, girl, and yet, there seemed to surround the small maiden an aura of quiet calm that affected all who came in contact with the demure young girl; her husband among them. Hatanaka himself was not immune to her gentle ways and felt more at peace in her presence than at any other time.

As for his younger son; Shuuichi cared not a wit for tilling the soil. He derived no enjoyment, as his elder brother did, from watching things grow, and thus, in silent accord with Kurama, had taken to the hunt, providing meat for the family table. In this, he had shown such aptitude that he’d been taken under the auspices of Kuwabara’s best mate: one Yusuke Urameshi by name, himself the second of Kurama’s childhood friends.

Brash and cocky; Yusuke was, in Hatanaka’s opinion, nothing more than a loud-mouthed, uncouth braggart. Yet even he could not deny the young man’s unerring skill with both musket and crossbow.

At 17, with dark hair and peat colored eyes, together with his muscular build and a ready grin, Yusuke was the veritable epitome of masculinity. It was for this reason, more so than his prowess with gun and bow, that the noble gentleman was willing to allow Shuuichi to spend time in the other boy’s company, for the father deemed Yusuke’s manliness, rather than his stepson’s gentle, almost feminine ways, to be a more favorable influence upon the impressionable young boy who was his flesh and blood.

Yusuke, as well, had a wife, and as he thought about the young, brunette spitfire, Hatanaka could not help the somewhat impish grin that suddenly settled upon his stern visage. Though slight in stature, in truth, she stood only two inches taller than Yukina; Keiko Urameshi was willowy, with eyes that matched the deep brown of her hair. Those same eyes could be soft and gentle, gazing upon her husband with such love one moment only to flash with fiery indignation the next.

Together with her parents, the Yukimuras, and Yusuke, Keiko ran the hostel located in the center of the village. An uncommon site, to be sure, to find in so tiny a hamlet, but the village lay midway between the inner Barony lands and the larger port city some 150 miles away; thus, it was a logical stopover along the carriage road that connected the two.

Though it was common knowledge within the village that the Yukimuras were grooming the daughter and her husband for their eventual succession to the management of the hostel, it was also common knowledge that Yusuke had not the slightest interest in the place. He much preferred to spend his days hunting the vast, forested lands that surrounded the village, which one could not deny, did supply meat for the daily table. His nights, for the most part, were spent in drunken revelry within the small public room that was a part of the hostel. And though on those occasions, more often than not, the entire village bore witness to the shrill sound of her voice berating her errant husband; none could dispute the fact that Keiko loved Yusuke with all her heart, and he, for his part, returned her affection in full-measure.

The sound of a door opening, followed by several voices all trying to speak at the same moment, brought an abrupt end to Hatanaka’s musings. He looked up as his stepson, a basket of vegetables tucked securely under one arm and the other casually draped across Shuu-kun’s shoulder, stepped through the door. Behind them, the older man noted, the ‘lout’ and the ‘lay-about’ (as he’d dubbed Kurama’s friends – Kuwabara and Yusuke, respectively) trooped in.

“Good afternoon, Stepfather.”… “Hello, Father.” His sons greeted him simultaneously.

Kurama, with a nod and smile for Hatanaka, released Shuu-kun and headed for the small wooden table in the center of the room. Placing the basket on the table, he turned to address his stepfather once again. “We are fortunate,” he said, with a smile and a nod toward Shuuichi the Younger, himself barely containing a wide grin. “Shuu-kun’s considerable skill with a bow has netted a rare treat for tonight’s meal.”

Hatanaka’s deep blue eyes (so like his son’s) widened in surprise as he turned to the younger boy; a pleased smile gracing the thin lips as Shuu-kun held up his prize: a large pheasant. However, Hatanaka’s pleasure at the unexpected boon was dampened somewhat at his stepson’s next words.

“Kazuma,” the red-haired youth addressed his taller friend, “perhaps you and Yukina would care to join us for dinner this evening?” Turning his head slightly, Kurama spoke to the black-haired youth standing next to Kuwabara. “And Yusuke, you and Keiko are welcome to join us as well?”
Kuwabara flashed a large grin, his small, dark eyes lighting up as they always did when someone mentioned his lovely little wife. “We’d love to, Kurama,” he replied. “I’ll just run on over to the house and fetch Yukina. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind lending a hand with the meal.” He spared a brief glance at the shorter man at his side. “Urameshi?” he questioned.

Yusuke, who’d been absently watching Kurama take the vegetables from the basket, returned his best mate’s look. “Right with you, Kuwabara,” he answered with a nod. “Kurama,” he continued, turning his attention back to his red-haired friend, “thank you for the invitation, but I’m afraid Keiko and I won’t be able to oblige. I promised I’d actually be there to help her and her folks at the inn this evening, and I’m already late as it is.”

“Some other time, then,” Kurama responded, giving his friend a smile before turning toward the cupboard and taking several pots and pans from it.

Yusuke grinned in return then turned to follow his large, carrot-topped companion out. Just before he stepped completely through the open door, the three remaining occupants in the room heard the muttered ‘damnation’. Yusuke turned back with an embarrassed grin, his cheeks flushing a bright crimson as he reached beneath his open coat and removed a small square of sealed parchment from his waistcoat pocket.

“Eh… I’m sorry, milord,” he said, that lopsided grin still in place as he addressed Hatanaka, holding the letter out to him. “This arrived for you early this morning, and I completely forgot to give it to you when I got here.”

“Idiot,” Hatanaka hissed with a scowl as he snatched the letter from the boy’s hand.

Yusuke shrugged, for the moment choosing to ignore the slight from the former nobleman. Catching both Kurama’s and Shuu-kun’s eyes, he grinned, and with a wave, sauntered out the door.

Hatakana paid no heed as the youth again left the house, his attention fixed solely upon the contents of the letter in his hand. “Impossible!” he breathed shaking his head in disbelief. “It can’t be!” Quickly he read the letter through again, and then a third time to be absolutely certain.

“What is it?”… “Father?” Again, his sons addressed him at the same moment, and he looked up at them, a smile spreading slowly across his features.

“My sons,” he replied, “fortune, it seems, has decided to smile upon us once more.”