Samurai Son (9 page)

Chapter Sixteen

“Where have you been?” Rokuro repeated.

Akira stammered, “I—I...”

Rokuro looked him over.
 
The sensei’s gaze fell on the two samurai swords in Akira’s belt.
 
“Where did you get those?”

Akira couldn’t see any reason to lie to Rokuro, except to leave out the part about the Tengu.
 
“I went for a walk and was training with my bo when this ronin attacked me.”

“Ronin?”
 
Rokuro frowned.
 
“We just received word that a bandit had robbed and killed some peasants on the other side of the island.
 
I suddenly realized we didn’t know where you were...”

“I defeated him with my bo.”
 
Akira smiled.
 
“I tied him up and took his swords.”

Rokuro frowned again.
 
“You didn’t kill him?”

Akira stared.
 
“I had knocked him out.
 
It would’ve been dishonorable to kill the man.”

Before Akira could react, Rokuro smacked him on the head.
 
“You stupid boy!”

Akira reeled from the blow, barely catching himself with the staff.
 
He looked up through eyes filled with tears from the pain.
 
“What did I do?”

“The man is ronin; you should’ve killed him.”

“Why?
 
I had knocked him out, and he wouldn’t hurt anyone tied up.”

Rokuro glowered.
 
“Ropes can be evaded.
 
You would’ve given him an honorable death had you done what you were supposed to.
 
Now we must find him and kill him before he kills others.”

Rokuro stalked off, leaving Akira rubbing his head where Rokuro struck him.
 
As he fought tears, hot anger welled up inside him.
 
He didn’t understand why Rokuro thought it necessary to kill the ronin.
 
It wasn’t honorable to kill a man whom he had knocked out; that much he was certain of.
 
And if the man somehow got free of the knots, Akira doubted the ronin could do much without his swords.

Rokuro had turned to talk to one of the many ashigaru in the formation.
 
Akira found himself growing angry at Rokuro’s response.
 
Why should I kill that man?
Akira thought.
 
He wasn’t able to harm anyone once I was done with him.

“Akira!”
 
Rokuro’s voice sliced through his reverie.
 
“Quit daydreaming and tell me where you left him.”

Akira frowned.
 
He didn’t really want to tell anyone of his special place, but he couldn’t see a way out.
 
“He’s at the top of the hill overlooking the tea terraces.”

Rokuro looked at him strangely.
 
“Were you in the pines?”

Akira felt a lump of dread settle in his throat.
 
“Yes, I was just looking for a quiet place.
 
It’s nice and cool on that mountain.”

Rokuro frowned.
 
“Did you see anything unusual?”

Akira felt his heart race.
 
If he gave away the Tengu, he would surely not be able to train with the kami anymore.
 
“No.
 
Other than the ronin, I haven’t seen anything or anyone.”

Rokuro snorted, obviously not believing him.
 
The old sensei turned to the ashigaru.
 
“You come with me, and bring some men.
 
We may need them to take care of the ronin.”

Akira turned to leave but felt Rokuro’s viselike hands on his shoulder.

“You’re coming with me, Akira.
 
I want to make sure we get to the right place.”

Akira could do nothing but nod.
 
He hoped he hadn’t made things any worse.

Chapter Seventeen

They arrived in Yutsui within the hour.
 
Rokuro had brought six ashigaru along with Akira.
 
Akira thought this was overkill; after all, he had fought and beaten the renegade samurai and had taken his swords, which were now in Rokuro’s custody.
 
Akira carried his own samurai blades: the katana and wakizashi that his father, Takeshi, had commissioned for him.
 
They were fine blades, unlike the swords he had taken off the ronin.
 
They showed the exquisite
hamon
, the blade pattern of a skilled craftsman.

Thinking about them, Akira wondered what sort of soul the swords carried within them.
 
It was said that the samurai swords carried the soul of the samurai.
 
He glanced down at the tsuba, admiring the detailed work of ravens and dragons on the hilt.
 
It didn’t seem that the sword had any soul within it; it was a fine sword, to be sure, but it seemed to him to be a lifeless piece of metal.

Shouting then screaming broke him from his reverie.
 
They had just entered the outskirts of the small town.
 
The ashigaru leaped forward with spears ready.
 
Akira followed them, heedless of Rokuro’s calls.
 
They rounded the corner of one hut, and Akira saw a terrible sight.

The ronin had somehow escaped his bindings and stood in the middle of the square.
 
Although he didn’t have samurai swords, he carried a big stick in one hand and a knife in the other.
 
A man with salt-and-pepper hair and skin tanned from the sun lay bleeding at his feet, his throat cut and a dark stain widening around him.
 
His clothes were typical of the peasants, but the clothing looked new and well cared for.
 
Maybe he was a farmer of some stature.
 
A basket of rice lay toppled next to him; many of the grains had fallen in the blood and were turning red.

A woman was shrieking not far from the men.
 
Another woman was trying to hold her back so the ronin would not injure her.

“Come with us,” Rokuro said to the ronin as the ashigaru fanned out.
 
“You cannot escape.”

The ronin laughed and flailed his stick.
 
“I want food!
 
Bring me food!”

“You’ve done enough harm today.”
 
Rokuro drew his katana.
 
“Put down your weapons, and we’ll give you food.”

The ronin laughed.
 
“You will just kill me.
 
Instead, I shall take you all down with me.”

Akira stared into the ronin’s eyes.
 
Surely the man was mad, yet Akira knew he spoke the truth.
 
Rokuro would not let him live.

At that moment, the ronin recognized Akira.
 
“It’s you!
 
You led them here!”

Akira said nothing but he could see something in the man’s eyes that suggested the ronin knew more.

“You think I’m a monster?” the ronin babbled.
 
“You’re looking at a monster right there!
 
That boy—that boy deals with monsters.
 
He is a monster!”

Suddenly an arrow shaft whizzed by and hit his chest.
 
The ronin gasped and collapsed.
 
Akira turned and saw an ashigaru with a bow.
 
Rokuro nodded at the soldier then walked to the ronin and bent down.

“He’s from the Takemura clan,” Rokuro murmured.

Akira looked down at the dead man.
 
“Why was he a ronin?”

“I don’t know,” Rokuro said.
 
“The Takemura are samurai vassals of Nanashi.
 
Nanashi is still very much in power.”

“He called me a monster.”
 
Akira swallowed hard.

“He was a madman.”
 
Rokuro frowned.

Chapter Eighteen

The ship anchored in a small harbor in the southeastern part of the island.
 
Tsuitori-jima sat northeast of Kyotori-jima, not far from the main archipelago.
 
Kasumi and Jiro had taken their leave as soon as the dockworkers moored the ship to the quay.
 
Now, standing on the pier, Kasumi gazed at the forests in longing.
 
As a Neko, she hated being cooped up aboard a ship.
 
She longed to stretch out and roam in the dense pine forests.

“What a backwater place.”
 
Jiro’s mocking tone cut through her reverie.

Her eyes narrowed on her half brother.
 
“I think it’s a beautiful island.
 
I would love to explore it.”

Jiro snorted in derision.
 
“What’s so beautiful about it?
 
There’s nothing here.”

Nothing?
 
Kasumi could see where Jiro, who had grown up on Kyotori, would think this a terribly boring place.
 
There were no palaces, apartments, taverns, bathhouses, or brothels.
 
The small harbor held only a handful of docks with a few small fishing boats tied to them.
 
The junk they had sailed on was the largest merchant vessel there.
 
The forest expanded out from the coast and went on for what had to be miles.
 
She had seen the mountains and the terraced rice fields loom above the forest in the distance from the junk before it entered the harbor, and she longed to see its unparalleled beauty.
 
Keiko had told her how beautiful Tsuitori was, but she didn’t imagine it would be this lovely.
 
The island reminded her of Neko-shima and the forests within.

The harbor town was little more than a row of shops and some warehouses for goods.
 
The junk’s sailors ignored the two samurai and busied themselves with unloading their cargo.

“I think it’s wonderful,” Kasumi said.
 
Her mood had greatly improved.
 
“I can’t wait to get to the Kuan Yin temple.
 
I bet it is in the forests.”

“You do that,” Jiro said.
 
“I’ll see what little food is around this place.”

Kasumi didn’t bother with a response and set out to find the Kuan Yin temple.
 
She’d find Jiro when it was time to visit the daimyo and speak with Ikumi.
 
He would have to be there as a representative from Naotaka.
 
Rather than look for a hotel or tavern, Kasumi thought it would be better to find the temple and leave the small offering she carried with her.

After questioning two peasants where the temple was, she found herself walking down a small cart path that led to Yutsui, the main village on the island.
 
It was also closest to the daimyo’s residence, which made it all that more desirable to visit.
 
The temple, it seemed, was just outside of Yutsui, so she followed the cart path through the coniferous forest.

The cart path seemed well traveled, but it was late in the day and the shadows were long.
 
She passed by a few farmers with ox carts full of bags of rice, heading to the port, but beyond that, the road seemed deserted.
 
Kasumi wasn’t particularly worried about being waylaid by bandits as it was obvious by her two swords and bearing that she was a samurai.
 
And if the bandits didn’t respect her station, they would respect her teeth and claws when she tore them apart.
 
Even so, she carefully listened and kept watch.

She snuffed the air for the scents of the forest and was rewarded with the heady pine fragrance.
 
She could feel a purr in her throat as she walked.
 
The island made her long for home and the thick pines there.
 
Perhaps after she finished her errand, the Guardian would have her come home for a while.
 
She was tired of Kyotori and the city of the Imperial Island.

She walked for a while on the road as the shadows deepened.
 
After a while, she began to wonder if she had taken the correct path; after all, she expected more traffic on a road leading from the main village to the harbor.
 
She looked ahead but could see little besides the trees and the path winding its way deep into the forest.

It was then she caught a whiff of oni.
 
Kasumi halted and snuffed the air, trying to catch the demon’s location.
 
She looked around but could see nothing but shadows and dark pine trunks.
 
Suddenly the quiet, blissful forest became foreboding.
 
Again, the stench of oni touched her senses, and she spun around, her katana drawn.

Nothing presented itself.

The air was stagnant here; no wind crossed her path.
 
She looked for anything that might betray the oni’s hiding place but saw nothing except the shadows of the pines.
 
A low growl emanated from her throat, and her cat eyes widened to take in her surroundings.
 
She looked along the trees’ shadows for a dark shape to move around them but saw nothing.
 
She took one step then another.
 
She wondered if she would be able to kill the demon if it attacked.

She continued walking in the direction of the town.
 
Certainly by now she would be able to find some sign of humans.
 
Without the wind, the air disclosed little to her powerful sense of smell.
 
Yet there was that cloying stench of oni she could not shake.
 
She looked around but saw nothing that would suggest a demon.

The hackles on her neck rose, and she felt herself begin the metamorphosis from human to tiger.
 
“Not now,” she whispered, forcing herself back into human form.
 
She needed to keep her wits about her if there were indeed an oni present.

Kasumi kept walking, looking around.
 
She heard a caw from a crow and glanced up.
 
Crows were normally daylight birds, which made her pause.
 
The crow was a few feet away from her in an older pine.

“Karasu,” she said, wondering why the crow was still here.

Go back, Neko,
the crow spoke plainly in her mind.
 
You are hunted…

I must get to the temple of Kuan Yin,
Kasumi said.

You are on the wrong path.
 
There is nothing but danger ahead.

Kasumi frowned.
 
She wondered if the crow were a Tengu.
 
They were notoriously deceptive creatures but, like all kami, could be helpful.
 
She wondered if the crow spoke the truth about the temple.

As she pondered the crow’s words, she saw movement above her.
 
There, among the branches, lurked a shadow.
 
It began to coalesce as she stared at it.
 
She backed up as the oni grew in form.

A samurai would not run, but Kasumi was also a Neko.
 
She knew the folly of facing a demon alone in the darkened forest.
 
She had been at an advantage on the ship on the sea.
 
An oni was strongest when its victim was alone and could not receive help.
 
She turned and fled back down the path.

She chose to stay in human form as she ran.
 
As a tiger, the burst of speed would be more than a human, but it would only be for a little while and she would exhaust her reserves and have to rest.
 
The oni could outrun her in her human form eventually but might not have the stamina.
 
Even so, she longed for the power of her tiger form.
 
She could possibly sprint away for a while.

Dread washed over her as she ran; her pulse hammered in her ears as she pushed herself to run as fast as she could.
 
The stench of oni surrounded her, and she felt herself weakening as the demon-sickness roiled in her stomach.
 
If she could only find her way back to the port…

Suddenly a bright light blinded her, and she shrieked, throwing her hands up and slashing wildly with her katana.
 
Something else screamed behind her, and Kasumi whirled around, slicing deep into something dark and formless.
 
Demon blood splattered against her, and she cried out.
 
Before the demon could attack, something threw the bright light at the oni, and it screamed in agony before turning and fleeing into the forest.

Kasumi looked up to see her rescuer and was surprised to see a woman bathed in gentle glowing light.
 
“Kuan Yin?” Kasumi whispered.

“No, my child,” the woman said.
 
“I am Takeshi Ikumi.”