Samurai Son (13 page)

Chapter Twenty-Five

Akira walked for a while in the dark forest, staying away from the road as much as possible.
 
He looked up and could see the first moonrise above the treetops.
 
The gibbous moon meant the next moons would be nearly full as well.
 
The little cat rested in between the folds of his coat.
 
He welcomed her warmth on that chilly night, and he could feel her soft purring as she nestled against his chest.

“Little Neko,” he said softly to the cat as he continued to walk through the forest, “I wonder where the dragon is.”

The cat yawned and looked up at him.
 
Even in the darkness, he could see her eyes glowing at him, reflecting the moon’s light.
 
He walked on in silence.
 
He wasn’t really sure where he was, but he was determined to find the dragon.

After trudging through the forest for an hour, he saw a clearing where the moonlight played among the fields.
 
The second moon was cresting the horizon on the east.
 
He guessed he was south of his home, by the moons’ positions.
 
He looked over a rice field that the peasants farmed for his father.
 
Along either side of a trodden path were sunken, marsh-like lands that in daylight would be green with the harvest.
 
The moons had turned the rice stalks to pale gray.
 
Akira could see a few huts built nearby where the farmers lived.

He was hungry and thirsty now, but as thirsty as he was, he didn’t want to wake the peasants.
 
There was a well not far from the house, and he slipped over to it to lower a bucket into it.
 
As he did so, he looked apprehensively toward the hut, but his thirst got the better of him and he let the bucket go with a small splash.

It was louder than he intended and he paused and looked again at the hut.
 
Seeing no lights, he pulled the bucket up and cupped his hands to drink.

“You!”

The voice came so suddenly that Akira straightened up and half drew the katana before he saw an old, bent peasant standing behind him.
 
The old man had been ready to strike Akira with a stick, but on seeing the swords, dropped to his knees.
 
“Forgive me, Lord!
 
I am but an old man.”

Akira blinked at the peasant and sheathed the sword.
 
“No, it’s all right,” he said in a hurried whisper, realizing the man was terrified that Akira would kill him.
 
“Excuse me, but you startled me.”

The old man looked up.
 
Akira took in his balding head and thinning beard, framing a face more crinkled than even Rokuro’s.
 
“I didn’t know you were samurai, Lord.”

Akira knelt beside the old man and helped him up.
 
He knew his actions weren’t something befitting a samurai, but he didn’t care.
 
He didn’t want to hurt the old man, and even though the land was his father’s, Akira didn’t want to treat the peasant roughly.
 
“It’s all right,” Akira said.
 
“I was just thirsty and wanted a drink.
 
I thought everyone would be asleep here, so I didn’t ask permission.
 
It is I who should apologize.”
 
He looked at the well.
 
“Is this your well?”

The old man nodded.
 
“I am called Tenko.
 
Would you like some tea, Lord?”

“I am thirsty,” Akira said hesitantly.
 
“But I must be going.”

“I have fresh rice cakes,” Tenko said.

Akira was hungry.
 
The two rice cakes he had in his pack he had eaten a while back.
 
“What about your family?”

“I have no family,” Tenko said.
 
“My wife died a long time ago, and my grown children live in Yutsui.”

Akira looked up at the moons.
 
It was probably about midnight.
 
He wondered what harm it would do to accept this man’s hospitality.
 
“I would be honored to join you for a little while.”

#

Akira had never been in a peasant’s hut but was immediately amazed by how tidy Tenko’s home was.
 
As Tenko lit an oil lamp, Akira looked around and saw that the house was only one room.
 
Along one side of the hut was a rolled-up futon and a worn pine chest.
 
Along the back wall was a small fire pit and hearth.
 
An opening in the roof allowed the smoke to vent.
 
Beside the hearth were various jars with what Akira assumed were rice, beans, and various foodstuffs.
 
A battered kettle hung over the dying fire.

In the middle of the hut sat a worn table with straw mats that served as seats.
 
Tenko motioned to the table.
 
To Akira’s surprise, he felt sanded-down pine, not dirt, under his feet.
 
He walked in and sat down before the table.
 
The little calico stretched in his coat, and Akira pulled her out while Tenko tended to the kettle full of water.

“Well, little one, I hope our host won’t mind you playing here,” Akira said as he watched her stretch.

Tenko looked over and saw Neko.
 
He smiled.
 
“I have some leftover goat’s milk.
 
If you wouldn’t mind me giving her some…?”

“I think she’d like that.”

Tenko brought hot tea in a cup with a chip out of it and handed it to Akira.

“Thank you, Tenko-san,” Akira said.
 
“I’m afraid I didn’t tell you who I am.”

Tenko lay a shallow dish of goat’s milk down for Neko and smiled.
 
“You are Takeshi Akira, son of Takeshi daimyo and Lady Ikumi.”

The cat began to lap the milk.
 
The old man stood up and turned to place some rice cakes on a tray.

Akira blinked.
 
“You know who I am?”

“What other young samurai dressed in such fine armor with Takeshi’s crest would be on Tsuitori?”

Akira took a sip of the hot tea.
 
It was a low-quality tea, but it tasted good to his parched mouth.
 
He took one of the rice cakes and found it sweet with adzuki bean paste inside.
 
They tasted wonderful.
 
“I suppose it’s pretty obvious.”

“But why, Akira-sama, are you out this time of the night with your little kitten?”

Akira felt his face flush.

Tenko smiled kindly.
 
“Eat more, my lord; you look hungry.”

Akira took another rice cake.
 
They were very good.
 
He sipped the tea as the old man sat across the table and watched him curiously.
 
“The dragon,” he said at last.

“Ah,” Tenko said, still smiling.
 
“And you think you can tame it?”

“I don’t know,” Akira confessed.
 
He didn’t understand why, but the old man made him feel at ease.
 
He found himself telling Tenko about Jiro and Kasumi.
 
As he did, he noticed Neko sitting nearby, listening to the story with rapt attention.
 
The little calico swished her tail from side to side.

Tenko smiled again.
 
“I think perhaps you made a boastful statement, Akira-sama, if I may be so bold.
 
A man doesn’t get to be my age by making so many boasts.”

Akira stared at the peasant for his audacity but listened.
 
He knew that, as a samurai, he should be angry at the man, yet he could not be.
 
“I know that, Tenko-san.
 
But I have said I would kill the dragon.
 
I can’t back down; I would lose honor.”

“Yes, you would, though your mother might think differently,” he said, drinking a bit of tea from his own cup.

“You know Ikumi?”

“Oh, yes,” Tenko said.
 
“And Ikumi knows me well.
 
She was not always samurai, you know.”

“I have heard that,” Akira said quickly.
 
He finished his tea only to have Tenko fill his cup again.
 
“How do you know her?”

Tenko smiled again but this time his smile was grim.
 
“She asked me once for a favor, one I was happy to give.”

Akira was about to ask what the favor was when Tenko suddenly stood up.
 
He walked over to the chest and began rummaging through it without explanation.

“Your dragon is indeed a bit south from here, Akira-sama,” Tenko said as he pulled various pieces of clothing and other items from the trunk.
 
“It will take you two hours if you walk straight through the forest to the shore.”

“You saw it?”
 
Akira asked.

“Oh, yes.
 
It is sleeping from the kills it made yesterday.”
 
Tenko frowned and began to look at coins or pebbles he took from the trunk.
 
At this distance, Akira could not tell.
 
“Although your statement was boastful, it was made with good intent.
 
I saw how you helped the Yutsui peasants.”

“You
saw?
”
 
Akira looked at the old man and saw an enigmatic smile on his face.

“Yes, I see many things, Akira-sama.”
 
Tenko stood up and looked down at Neko, who was listening intently to the conversation.
 
“But it is time for you to find your dragon.”

“You’re not telling me to go back?”

Tenko grinned.
 
“Should I?”

“I don’t know,” Akira said.
 
“Ikumi and Rokuro would tell me to.”

“Ah, but Ikumi and Rokuro do not know the depths of your powers, Akira-sama,” Tenko said.
 
“Yes, they have an idea, but really, they don’t.”

Akira’s brow furrowed in confusion.
 
“I don’t understand.”

“Your entire life and training has been to fight that which you are.”
 
Tenko held out a flat pebble.
 
“Take it.”

Akira picked up the small pebble from Tenko’s frail hands.
 
“What is it?”

“It’s a pebble.”

The young man stared at Tenko, wondering if the old man had lost his mind.
 
“What does it do?”

“Good question!
 
I see they haven’t quelled your curiosity.
 
The stone will lead you to the dragon.
 
It will only glow when you are on the right path.”

Akira stared.
 
“Are you a sorcerer?”

Tenko shrugged.

Akira looked at the stone.
 
The flat, dark gray pebble was smooth, as though a river had worn it down.
 
He rubbed it with his fingers but felt nothing unusual about it.
 
“I should go.”

Tenko bowed.
 
“I will keep your cat safe until you return.”

Akira nodded then bowed.
 
“Thank you, Tenko-san.”
 
He stood up and turned to leave.

He felt the old man’s hand on his sleeve.
 
He turned again to face Tenko.
 
“You can defeat the dragon, Akira-sama.
 
The way to do it is to become that which you already are.”
 
He bowed low.