by M. H. Bonham
Akira wasn’t in the mood to talk and started walking down the mountain, despite the bird’s protestations. He walked down the path with his bo in one hand and the ronin’s swords stuck in his belt. He would go to Rokuro and hand him the swords. He knew that Rokuro would send his father’s men, the ashigaru, to take the ronin prisoner. Akira was sure he would be hailed as a hero.
As he walked down the path that led to his father’s estate, he let his mind wander to what a great samurai hero he was. Without a sword, he had defeated a ronin. Certainly Rokuro would consider him a hero. Maybe he might lighten up on Akira’s training.
As Akira entered the courtyard beyond the gates, he knew something was wrong. Ashigaru were standing guard, and many were assembled before Rokuro. Rokuro paced before them, agitated; his dark eyes glinted as he shouted orders to the guard. Akira had never seen the old samurai so angry. He followed the ashigaru’s gazes to Akira, and the young samurai shivered involuntarily as Rokuro limped toward him.
“Akira! Where have you been?” Rokuro’s brow furrowed on his red face.
Chapter Fifteen
Kasumi awoke in her room aboard the ship. She had all the signs of demon-sickness. She had seen other Neko who faced the demons come down with the illness. Most who were afflicted were usually young and had never met their first demon until then. Kasumi had thought with her first encounter of a demon in Nanashi’s quarters that she had been spared the sickness.
That had obviously not been the case. She tried to sit up and began retching. Luckily she had either thrown up earlier or had nothing in her stomach because nothing came up, not even bile. She frowned, chagrined. Most of those who had caught the demon-sickness recovered, but they had the benefits of the Neko clan and their medicine. Her mother, Keiko, would make a special potion from a root that grew on Neko-shima, which combated the sickness, but Kasumi had no such medicine. Some Neko did not survive the sickness.
Kasumi closed her eyes. Without the demon draught, she might die, but she didn’t think so. It felt like a very bad case of seasickness; the others would think she was seasick and nothing more. But it also meant that she would be incapacitated for a while. She did not relish that.
She wondered what the others thought of this. She hoped none noticed the demon shadow or the way it reacted to her. Humans were superstitious; sailors, doubly so. They would throw her into the ocean if they knew she was part kami. She suspected that her loud-mouthed half brother would tell everyone she had gotten seasick. That would probably mollify most of the sailors, but some old-timers would undoubtedly think it odd she would show seasickness only after several days. Still, she was a woman, and women behaved oddly in men’s eyes.
Her cabin door opened, and Jiro strode in. No knock or anything, she noted, feeling the tiger anger well up in her throat. She hated how he treated her. Even though they had the same father, the fact he was in line for the inheritance and she wasn’t made him cocky. He looked at her sideways through slit eyes.
“You still sick?”
“Yes,” she said. “Didn’t your mother teach you to knock?”
Jiro shrugged and rummaged through her packs where she kept pears.
“Those are mine.”
“You’re not eating them.” He pulled one of the pears out and bit into it. “Honestly, Kasumi, you’re being stupid. Who ever heard of getting sick during a pirate attack?”
“Are you accusing me of cowardice?” She stared at her brother, who just took another bite. “Get out of my room!” She felt like throwing up again. He grinned before leaving with a slam of the door.
Demon-sickness, she thought and felt her stomach try to heave again. She stuffed her fist in her mouth and bit down on her knuckles until they bled. The tiger within her awoke as she tasted the hot, salty blood on her tongue. Tiger, I am a tiger, not some mere mortal. She looked around her cramped quarters. Normally, if she were a man or not samurai, she would have to stay in the bunks with the other sailors, but they made allowances for her. Carrying the two swords gave her rank far above that of commoners.
Yet she and all samurai served at the whim of a daimyo. Her family’s ancestral lands would never be hers or belong to anyone in the Neko clan; they belonged to the commoners and the emperor. Nanashi could demand the Neko clan’s lands but at the ire of the emperor and other samurai families. No, it would be better if he tried to take them first and take everyone by surprise. That way he could destroy the Guardian of the Kimon and bring the demons in.
There were demons already here, though. The Kimon was not the only way out of the demon world. Nanashi’s summonings proved that. And now she was certain that a demon stalked her. Could she possibly fight it? She took a deep breath and swallowed the sour bile in her throat before pouring a small cup of water and drinking it down.
Kasumi needed rest; that much she knew. It didn’t matter what Jiro or any of the sailors thought about her. She had to be ready when the demon appeared again. That meant rest and food. She closed and barred the door. She wasn’t quite ready for food, but she was tired. Exhausted, she blew out the light and curled up in a ball, as she had often done as a cat, and fell asleep.
#
Kasumi awoke several hours later to the gentle rocking of the ship. Her headache had subsided, as had her nausea. As she lay on the pallet, she felt a slight change. She raised her head and snuffed the air. It was ship’s air, dank and musty, with the taste of brine and the stench of sailors. But there were other scents her cat nose picked up. She could smell pines through the wind, plants, and rice paddies. Her ears heard the cries of gulls and other birds above the creaks and groans of the ship and noise of the crew.
Thank Maneki Neko, she thought as she slowly stretched. They were near the island of Tsuitori. She would be glad to be on land again. A ship was no place for a cat.
She got up, not bothering to change her clothes. She had not vomited on herself, and she thanked the goddess that she had kept clean enough to not have to bathe again. She unlatched the door and peered out of her room.
Kasumi didn’t need to look to know that the crewmen busied themselves preparing to make port. There was a small port on the western part of the island, not far from where Takeshi Ikumi lived. Kasumi hoped Ikumi would be able to help her.
But there would be the charade. She would have to visit the temple, and she would have to put up with Jiro’s mocking behavior. She sighed and left the cabin. She hoped she could get help before the demon attacked her.
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 h
im. 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 frag
rance. 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.