Lord Oda's Revenge (41 page)

Now, though, he had been here for some time, and the creatures were in his body. He felt them – he felt every agonizing incision as the larvae and the vermin attacked his flesh with their tiny mouths. He felt them fluttering, like painful emotions. He heard them, consuming. He heard them even over his own
screaming, and he thought at first that the pain would lessen, that he could not bear it and he would pass out, but there was no passing out in death.

Yukiko.

It was Yukiko who had sent him here – who had come up behind him and ended his life. As he watched a fly settle on the swollen purple lips of a dead samurai to his right, he dreamed of her death. Certainly on dying she would come to hell, and he would be waiting for her here. Maybe he would be her hell – maybe instead of a battlefield of corpses she would see him, killing her, for all eternity. . .

He was picturing her face as he tortured her, when there came the sound of footsteps. He thought that was odd – he heard only the calls of crows, usually, as they fought over scraps of human meat; or the munching of worms on flesh, or the chewing of rats. There was no other sound in this place – there was no sky, only a grey nothingness above.

Yet here came footsteps.

He struggled up on one elbow and was stunned to see Taro, walking through the dead men and horses as if they were not even there. His knee burst through a stallion's head, and in its passing it allowed Kenji Kira to see beyond the illusion, and for just a moment he saw that underneath all this decomposition was just blankness, which was somehow more terrifying.

Following behind Taro was Hana, and Kenji Kira recognized her for a soul like himself, lost from life. Taro was alive – that much was obvious. He shone so brightly it hurt Kira's eyes. But Hana was a shade; she was like a beautiful female shadow behind the boy. He narrowed his eyes.

Taro is taking her back to life
, he thought.

He had stopped screaming, he realized, for the first time
since he came here. He was aware of the things inside him, eating him, but he ignored them.
They are not there
, he told himself,
just like the dead men and the horses
– and to his surprise it helped. The pain was still an enormity – it was a cloak he wore, it was the bones inside his body – but it was manageable, conquerable.

He got his hands under the cold corpse of the horse on top of him and he heaved, all the while watching Taro's slow progress across the battlefield that was somehow also a blank place among impossible mountains. He bit into his tongue and was surprised, and horrified, to find a maggot in there – he sawed it in half with his teeth, and he swallowed it, and he wasn't sure if it was just his imagination or not but it seemed to give him strength.

Cursing, his forearms threatening to snap, he managed to lift the horse enough to pull his leg free. He stood. He noticed, in passing, that his leg seemed fine. He turned his back on the awful place and he scrambled, slipping in blood, towards Taro and Hana. He found that a sort of wake flowed behind Taro, a slipstream of brightness, and in it there were no dead things. He touched himself – his own body was unharmed, the holes made by the rats and crows had gone.

He smiled.

And he followed Taro out of death.

 

W
HEN
T
ARO OPENED
his eyes, he was standing over Hana again, the ball in his hands. Once again it was just quietly turning, a patchwork of clouds and brightness, smooth and efficient as a well-oiled machine.

Hana's chest rose and fell slowly, but her eyes were closed.

It hasn't worked
, thought Taro. He had dived into the sun and walked into death for her, and it had done nothing. He let out a deep sigh.

From outside, Hiro's voice. ‘Taro!'

‘Are you all right?' called Hayao.

Taro wondered how long he'd been in here. A moment? An incense stick? More? ‘I'm coming out,' he said.

Before leaving, he bent down to place a last kiss on Hana's forehead, and that was when her eyes opened.

He took a step backwards, and he must have gasped or screamed, because suddenly Hiro and Hayao were in the small room, and they were gazing at Hana in astonishment.

Hana looked up at them, as Taro shrank back into the shadows. He was afraid of her, he realized suddenly. He was afraid of what she would say.

‘Is this. . . heaven?' she asked.

‘No,' said Hayao. ‘No, you're alive.'

‘I had the strangest dream,' said Hana.

‘Yes,' said Hiro. He turned to beckon Taro forward, but Taro's feet would not move. ‘Yes, but it's over now.'

‘Hayao. . .,' said Hana softly. ‘You came after me. I saw you running down the hill. You entered the building; you were not afraid of the flames. You were so brave.' She sat up, then raised a hand to touch his face, still scarred from the fire. ‘And you, Hiro – I saw you running too.'

Taro felt a sob escape his chest – it was as he'd feared; he had abandoned her, and she would never forgive him.

He glared at Hayao. ‘You're welcome to her,' he said.

Hayao stared at him, said nothing.

He staggered from the room, and he only half heard voices behind him, telling him to stop. He walked to the cliffs on the east side of the mountain, the world around him a blur, and sat down. He put his face in his hands. Hana would marry Hayao, he was sure of it, and he would. . . he did not know what he would do. The only thing he was good at was killing people.

Time passed.

Later someone came up behind him, and their step was soft on the grass. ‘Go away, Hiro,' he said.

‘It is not Hiro,' said Hana.

Taro looked up at her. Her cheeks were streaked with tears, but she was smiling. ‘They told me about your mother,' she said. ‘I'm sorry.'

Taro nodded. ‘I'm sorry I—' His voice broke off. ‘You will never forgive me, I know. But Hayao is a better choice anyway.'

Hana sat down beside him, frowning. She was as beautiful as ever, that was what hurt the most. ‘What are you talking about?'

He looked down, so as not to meet her eye. ‘I chose my mother. When you were running to the burning temple – I went back to save my mother instead. Hayao went to save you. I've seen. . . I've seen how you look at him. I won't stand in your way.'

Hana laughed, a sound like bells. ‘Of course you went to your mother,' she said. ‘I didn't want to be saved anyway. I wanted to rescue the scrolls.'

‘And you did,' said Taro. ‘While my mother still died.' He moved a little farther from her. ‘I bring death everywhere I go.'

‘That's not true,' said Hana. ‘Hayao said you would not let me die. He said you searched for the ball, so you could use it to save me. And then you did.'

Taro was obscurely surprised. He had thought that Hayao would take this opportunity to claim Hana as his own.

‘I
did
want to save you,' said Taro. ‘But I wanted to kill Yukiko and all of Oda's men. Lord Oda, too, when I learned he was alive.'

‘My father's alive?' asked Hana.

‘Yes. It's complicated. I'm sorry.'

‘Don't be. I'm just sorry he isn't dead.'

Taro felt something untether inside him, some great weight. ‘After my mother died and you. . . after you went to sleep, I wanted revenge. I would be a liar if I said I just wanted the ball to bring you back from the dead.' He took the small globe from his cloak and held it in his hand.

Hana put out her hand, palm up. ‘Can I see it?' she asked. Taro handed her the ball, and she twisted it in her fingers.

‘Such a small thing,' she said absently. Then she looked into Taro's eyes. ‘Did you kill her, then?' she asked. ‘Yukiko? And all of Lord Oda's men?'

He shook his head.

‘Did you kill anyone?'

‘Some of Lord Oda's samurai. And not with the ball – it was before. But when they were dead, I just felt sick. It didn't bring my mother back. It didn't bring you back.'

‘Well, then,' said Hana. ‘But you
did
save me.' She moved over to sit closer to him, and put her hand on his.

‘Do you remember anything?' he asked.

‘It seems to me I was in the burning temple,' she replied, ‘and then I woke up to see Hayao and Hiro. I don't remember much in between.'

‘Nothing at all?'

A dreamy expression overtook her. ‘It seemed that I was crossing a bridge, and it was all sparkling as if it were covered with jewels, only there weren't any jewels. And then I was in a strange place, where nothing ever moved, and there was only black sky and stars. That was when I thought I saw you, but it's all so confused. Sorry,' she said, seeing his expression. ‘It's very vague.'

Taro smiled. ‘No,' he said. ‘I know exactly what you mean. I think I remember the stars too. I looked into the Buddha ball, and then I was with you in starlight, and then I was back in the room, and you were waking up.'

She sighed. ‘I can't believe my soul died. The abbot said he thinks my body was preserved because I rescued the scrolls.'

‘Yes. He says it's a miracle.'

‘That's nice,' said Hana, with a smile. ‘I like the idea of being a miracle.'

Taro swallowed painfully. ‘It suits you,' he said. Then he cleared his throat. ‘I meant what I said. I would not. . . I mean, I like Hayao. I think he would make you a very good husband.'

This time Hana laughed so hard she began to hiccup. ‘Not
very ladylike,' she said.

‘You never were,' said Taro. He was looking at her quizzically. What did she find so funny?

Hana squeezed his hand. ‘I don't want a husband,' she said. ‘I don't want any husband.'

Taro blinked. ‘Oh,' he said, happy and disappointed in equal measure.

‘But. . .,' said Hana slowly. ‘If I did want a husband, it would not be Hayao. It would be you.'

Taro stared at her. ‘Really? But I'm just. . . I mean, I'm not high-born like you. I'm a peasant, and a killer.'

‘Your father is Lord Tokugawa.'

‘Yes. But not really. I mean, not in the way that counts. I was raised by peasants. I'm not good enough for you.'

Hana held up her hands. ‘I'm not burned,' she said. ‘But. . . I was in the fire. . . it was so hot. . . And then I thought I was floating among stars, and I saw you there – and after that I opened my eyes and the scrolls were undamaged, and I was unhurt. And do you know what, Taro? It didn't surprise me. It didn't surprise me that you saved me, that you brought me back from the dead. You're good enough to risk everything because you wanted to save me so much. You're good enough to come after me into death itself and bring me out.' She paused. ‘You're good enough for anyone, Taro.'

‘I—' he began.

‘No,' said Hana. She put a finger on his lips. ‘Don't talk.'

She leaned towards him and closed her eyes, and his heart leaped in his chest, and when their lips met everything fell away from around him, and he was one with her, and it was as if they were floating in the stars again.

 

s
OMEONE SCREAMED
,
FROM
higher up the mountain. Taro heard yelling, the sound of people running. He broke away from Hana, jumped to his feet. Together they ran up the steps, breathing hard. Was it another attack on the mountain? When they reached the top, though, Taro saw no soldiers, no samurai anywhere. There were only monks, standing around in confusion. Then he saw a body, lying near the biers on which the dead had been laid. He began to rush down the other side, towards the main hall, Hana behind him.

His first thought was for his mother, but as he neared, he saw that she still lay peacefully in her white clothes, the abbot having covered her ruined chest. Near her lay the other monks who had died, awaiting the moment – as prescribed by the traditional obsequies – when their bodies could be burned.