Samurai Son (16 page)

Chapter Thirty-One

Kasumi awoke to cold and darkness.
 
The last thing she remembered was sitting on her futon after the sorcerer Tenko had somehow transported her to her room in the Takeshi estate.
 
She shivered beneath her blankets as she lay on the futon.
 
Something wasn’t right.

Had she fallen asleep after being transported here?
 
She couldn’t remember.
 
She sat up, looking around, her senses tingling as she did.
 
She wrinkled her nose as she took several breaths of air into her nostrils.
 
The place stank of magic.

It hadn’t before, which left Kasumi puzzled.
 
She smelled the magic in the air and on her clothing.
 
Being a magical creature herself, she knew when magic had been used against her, and this time it had been used to make her sleep.
 
But why?
 
And who would know she was magical?
 
Not even Jiro knew of her powers or her special abilities.
 
Her father had not, when he had taken a were-tigress to be his mate, so many years before.

Kasumi frowned.
 
She changed into a tunic and loose-fitting pants and tied the obi around her waist with the katana and wakizashi.
 
Something had gone terribly wrong.
 
She wished she had brought her armor with her.

“Kasumi!”

Jiro’s voice echoed in the eerie stillness of the night.
 
Kasumi pushed the door open and looked down the hall where light was coming from.

“Jiro, what is it?”
 
With her heart hammering in her ears, Kasumi ran down the hall and halted at the dining room.

Jiro knelt beside the body of Rokuro, pressing his fingers against the cold flesh to find a pulse, but Kasumi knew the old samurai was dead.
 
The blood pooled and congealed on the floor from what looked to be several cuts by a sharp blade.
 
Overhead, the wind blew through the hole in the rafters and roof.
 
She could see the sky beginning to lighten and the dark velvet curtain of night lift.
 
The wind caused the oil lamps to flicker and cast shadows on the walls.

“Ninja,” said Jiro.
 
“Who else would do this dishonorable thing?”

Kasumi looked around the room, her senses alert.
 
The stench of magic was so overpowering, she couldn’t sort out anything.
 
Then she saw it: russet feathers in a darkened corner.
 
“No, not ninja, my brother,” she said.
 
She stooped down and picked up the long feather.
 
“Tengu.”

#

Akira awoke sitting up as the first rays of dawn glowed through the forest’s canopy.
 
His jaw hurt, but much to his surprise, when he moved it and ran his tongue against his teeth, he found them to be intact.
 
When he tried to touch his face, he found his hands were bound in front of him.
 
He looked down and saw his clothing torn and bloody.
 
As he expected, the katana and wakizashi were gone from his side.

He was sitting with his legs stretched out and bound at the foot of a great fir tree.
 
His hands were tied in front, but when he looked at the ropes and the knots, they looked unfamiliar to him.
 
He had lost his sandals and tabi somewhere along the way, and his feet were bruised and dirty as if he had been made to walk barefoot over rocks.
 
He looked up into the canopy and around the forest, trying to get a glimpse of his captors.

“They won’t show themselves, not yet.”
 
Ikumi’s voice came from his left side, and he craned his neck as far as he could to see his mother tied up in a similar fashion not far from him.

“Are you all right?” he blurted out.

“About as fine as anyone can be, being a prisoner of the Tengu.”
 
Ikumi’s voice sounded tired.

“Where’s Rokuro?”

“They left him.
 
He was not moving when they took us.”

Akira fought back the tears that welled in his eyes.
 
Could Rokuro be dead?
 
The idea of the old samurai dying was inconceivable to him.
 
“I don’t understand.
 
Why would they come for me?
 
Why would anyone think I’m half Tengu?”

“Akira, I am Tengu.”

Akira’s eyes widened.
 
He shifted around to try to see her expression.
 
“That can’t be.
 
You’re human.
 
You don’t look like a bird or...”

“Or a monster?
 
No,” Ikumi said.

“I didn’t know there were women Tengu.”

She smiled grimly.
 
“How do you think young Tengu are made?”

Her bluntness surprised him.
 
Akira shrugged.
 
“I never thought about it.
 
Maybe I just always assumed that the Tengu were always there.”

“A valid assumption,” Ikumi said, “for Tengu are immortal.
 
Tengu never die and seldom mate.
 
It is a long and lonely life most Tengu lead.
 
We long for companionship and yet seldom find it, even among ourselves.
 
You see, Akira, most Tengu can’t love.”

“But you don’t look Tengu.”

“Akira, I chose to be human.
 
I took this shape because I no longer wanted to be a Tengu.”
 
She paused.
 
“You see, I fell in love with your father.”

“How?”
 
The word escaped his lips before he could stop it.

“That is a long story,” Ikumi said, “but it appears we have time for it.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

“The forests of Tsuitori are filled with spirits,” said Ikumi.
 
“Some of those spirits are Tengu, especially those who live in the northern forests.
 
One day, a young samurai rode through the forest.
 
I watched him from the treetops and fell in love with him the moment I saw him.
 
He was so handsome and strong.
 
I took on the form of a hawk and followed him as he rode through the forest.
 
I couldn’t imagine a braver or stronger samurai.”

Akira nodded.
 
“That was Takeshi?”

“Takeshi.”
 
Although he couldn’t see her face, Akira could hear the smile in her voice.
 
“He was not daimyo then, just the daimyo’s son, as you are.
 
When he rode out of the Tengu forests, I ached to follow, but I had no idea why or that I loved him.
 
So I settled back into the large yew tree at the edge of the forest and waited.

“The next morning, Takeshi rode into our forest, and my heart sang.
 
Once again, I followed him as he rode through the Tengu forest.
 
At that point, some of the other Tengu noticed him, and they planned to play a trick on the young samurai, but I bade them not to.

“Day after day, Takeshi rode his horse in our domain, and I prevented the other Tengu from troubling him.
 
Eventually they grew bored and went to do their mischief elsewhere.
 
Takeshi rode his horse in the forest with me flying not far from him.
 
A few times he caught a glimpse of the red hawk who flew overhead, shadowing his position.

“He did not always ride alone either.
 
Sometimes a servant would ride with him or another samurai.
 
One day Rokuro rode with Takeshi.

“They had stopped at a stream to water their horses.
 
Takeshi had spied me in a tree watching him intently.

“‘Rokuro sensei,’” he said.
 
‘That hawk has followed me each time I ride in this forest.’

“‘I’ll shoot it for you,’ said one of the servants present.

“‘No!’ snapped Rokuro and he eyed me appraisingly.
 
‘It looks as though you have a guardian.’

“And then Takeshi surprised us all.
 
He approached the tree I sat in and then bowed low to me.
 
‘Guardian,’ he said.
 
‘I beg that you grant good fortune on my house.
 
From this day forward, I will carry the hawk as my symbol.’

“I stood in the tree and watched it all in wonderment.
 
This was a humble samurai, and at that moment, if he had not already won my heart, he had done so then.
 
It pained me to see them ride out of the forest, and I almost followed them, but I was afraid.
 
So I sat in the yew tree and waited.”

“Did Rokuro know you are that hawk?”

“Yes,” she said softly.
 
“There is more to this story.”

Akira nodded and waited.

“The next day, Takeshi didn’t ride into the forest.
 
Sometimes he didn’t but it was most unusual.
 
I sat in the tree and waited for him.
 
The next day, he didn’t show either.
 
I began to fret, but I still waited patiently.
 
A week went by, and still no Takeshi.

“My concern grew into fear.
 
I had learned over the year’s time that Takeshi rode his horse in the forest because he loved the freedom of riding.
 
My presence seemed to soothe any fears that he might run into evil spirits, so I knew he enjoyed riding with me as a shadow overhead.
 
For him to simply stop seemed unimaginable to me.

“My worry had not gone unnoticed.
 
No doubt, the other Tengu had seen my behavior and thought it odd, but as I said, they can be solitary.
 
Still, I went to the other Tengu to ask them if they had seen the handsome samurai who rode his horse daily through the forest.
 
None had—at least none who would admit it to me—and I began to feel more frantic.

“The other forests and rice paddies are inhabited by other spirits, and while I was a very dangerous creature, I knew that there were other dangerous spirits outside the Tengu forests.
 
And yet I was so worried over Takeshi that my safety mattered not.
 
I left the Tengu forest in the form of a hawk and flew towards the southern part of the island, where I knew men resided.”

“But why would it be dangerous for a Tengu?” Akira asked.
 
“You’re immortal.”

“Yes, but I can be trapped or wounded,” she said.
 
“And there are worse fates than death, let me assure you.
 
So I sped towards the estate.
 
It was here that I found everyone dressed in white, the color of mourning.
 
I flew around the compound, looking for Takeshi, but he was not where I expected.
 
He was kneeling in prayer in a temple.

“His father, Takeshi, had passed away and my young Takeshi samurai was praying for his father’s soul.
 
In his time of grief, I came to him, changing my form into what you see now.
 
I lay my hand gently on his shoulders as I knelt down beside him.
 
He looked up at me with grief-filled eyes.
 
I still remember his dark eyes were overflowing with tears as he murmured prayers to his gods and he held a talisman of a hawk in his hands.

“‘You,’ he said.
 
‘You have come to mourn with me?’”
 
Ikumi paused as a tear trickled from her eyes.
 
“I don’t know how, but he knew I was that very same hawk who followed him in the forests.”
 
She paused.
 
“I couldn’t go back to the Tengu forest after that.
 
There was so much pain in Takeshi’s heart, I knew if I left him, he would have nothing.
 
Just as I had nothing being Tengu.
 
I decided to stay with him, and when he proposed to me, I married him.”

“But wasn’t he betrothed to another?” Akira asked, intrigued.

“Are you?” Ikumi asked.

Akira paused.
 
He had often wondered why his parents hadn’t affianced him to anyone, but the answer had been obvious.
 
Tsuitori was an outlying island.
 
Very seldom did other samurai come here.
 
Kasumi and Jiro’s appearance was a rarity.
 
He wasn’t betrothed to anyone largely because there was no one of his status or better to be affianced to.
 
“But...”

“Yes?”

“Father knew you were Tengu.”

“Yes, and I had hoped that your human blood would’ve spared you from them.
 
I had hoped by myself becoming human, you, too, would be human.”

But he’s not, Stormdancer.

Akira turned his gaze straight ahead.
 
A large russet Tengu with a naginata stood before both of them.