Samurai Son

by M. H. Bonham

  Yes.

  The cat nodded. Kanayo would approve. If you rescue them, we will have leverage to ask Takeshi for his help. He would not refuse or he would dishonor himself.

  Kasumi folded her legs beneath her and sat down just outside the pine tree’s circle. They suffered a great loss when the Tengu took the wife and son.

  But he has other samurai who have sworn fealty to him, yes?

  Kasumi thought for a moment before answering. Yes. Takeshi may still help us. Ikumi said he would.

  But without his family, he will not. The boy is his only heir?

  Yes.

  The leopard stood up and stretched. I will tell Kanayo.

  Kasumi rocked to her feet and backed up. I could use some help.

  I must return, the leopard said. You must do this alone, my sister. We can’t spare anyone in this fight. With that, the leopard turned and left, a silent shadow softer than the breeze.

  #

  Akira swam slowly to the shore not far from the harbor but away from human settlements. He knew that in his half-Tengu state, he would scare most people there, or worse, cause them to gather stones and clubs and chase him away. He knew the Tengu could become invisible at will, but he wasn’t certain how to do that. Perhaps it was just a matter of concentrating on being invisible, but he wasn’t willing to try it just yet.

  Akira walked onto the sandy beach just south of the harbor, feeling the wind kami ruffle his plumage and chill him. He shook his feathers and folded his wings tightly across his body to give him some warmth against the breeze. His fine silk kamishimo was ruined, and his scraggy hair was filled with mats. He wanted to strip out of his cold, wet things and dry.

  But where would he go? Where could he go without the Tengu following? While Windcatcher had still not caught up with him, Akira knew it wouldn’t be long before he found him and beat him for his insolence. Akira looked down. He had dropped his bokken sometime after entering the water, but he still had his two swords. He could defend himself from Windcatcher if necessary. But what about the other Tengu? He had broken his promise to them, but then, they broke their promise to him, hadn’t they? Ikumi was not free but enslaved as a hawk.

  The more he thought about the Tengu, the more he realized they had played a cruel trick on him. They had promised him immortality but at a cost of being something he was not. They had offered freedom to Ikumi but had made her a captive in a hawk body. They had promised to make him into a great warrior but inflicted great pain, and as far as he could see, he would never need to use this legendary fighting skill the Tengu boasted about. He could command the winds but only because the kami were servants to his will. And no one told him when he was about to hurt people; they probably didn’t care. They had given him sex, but it had been unfulfilling.

  Akira slowly sank down to the warm sand and sat there for a while, looking over the ocean. He felt sick as he thought about those poor fishermen and women who simply worked to earn a living there. Most were dead, swept out to sea or worse. These people didn’t deserve death. Oh, they were peasants, to be certain, but they were still people.

  Akira had heard of ruthless samurai who killed peasants without reason or provocation. Inevitably these men came to bad ends in stories. But it wasn’t the fear of reprisal that bothered Akira; it was his sadness at taking innocent lives. These people had done nothing to him, and he had killed them.

  He closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands. He couldn’t stop the tears as they ran down his face. His throat burned and he felt so ashamed. How could he have done such a cowardly thing?

  Akira felt the tug of the wind kami but did not respond. At this point, he didn’t care what the wind kami did to him. He had behaved badly. He wanted to hide from the world.

  Stormhammer! Windcatcher’s voice rang in his head. Akira did not look up. Stormhammer!

  “Leave me alone,” Akira muttered. “I don’t want to be Tengu. I want to be human again.”

  You can never be human.

  “Why not?”

  You are not human.

  Akira stood up, the rage building inside him. He knew Windcatcher was close by; his Tengu senses told him Windcatcher was ten feet behind him and slightly to his right. He turned around, forcing himself to relax. Then, as the Tengu came into his sight, he drew his sword and charged.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Akira leaped at Windcatcher, his katana flashing in the sunlight as he bore down on the Tengu. Just as his sword cut down, the Tengu disappeared in a flash of light. Akira spun around, looking for the Tengu, but Windcatcher had vanished. He stayed in ready position, knowing well that Windcatcher might surprise him with a counterattack.

  That was a good attack, the wind said.

  Akira did not respond. He didn’t need the kami to distract him. He waited, uncertain of how he could sense Windcatcher when he returned. He knew how to use his basic Tengu senses to find someone; his sight, hearing, and other senses were simply enhanced when compared to his human senses. But how could he see an invisible Tengu? And how could he recognize when another Tengu was present?

  There had to be a simple way; the Tengu made it look easy. Yet none of them were willing to show him how. Perhaps it was as easy as seeing the wind and water kami. As a Tengu, seeing the wind was a matter of looking where the wind was pushing things around—a flag, leaves on the trees, or waves on the water. With water kami, it was a matter of seeing the same currents. But what about the Tengu?

  Tengu based their forms on birds, so maybe they were most comfortable in the trees. Akira turned and studied the trees. He saw no birds and no Tengu.

  “Maybe I’m going about it the wrong way,” Akira muttered. He was looking for obvious signs of Tengu. The other kami had an otherworldly feeling to them, as though something niggled at the back of his mind and told him that something else was there. It was like seeing a picture and knowing something was wrong about it, but not really seeing it. The kami were simply in a place where one didn’t look.

  Akira closed his eyes and envisioned the place before him—trees, sand, rocks, sea, wind kami, and sky. He looked up into the branches, and in the tree sat Windcatcher, watching him carefully with katana drawn but not moving. Akira opened his eyes.

  The forest was the same yet not the same. He could see the faintest outline of Windcatcher in the tree, watching and waiting for him. Akira did not let his gaze linger too long on the Tengu, lest he give away that he could see him. He wanted to give Windcatcher as rough a time as he had under the Tengu’s tutelage.

  Wind kami, he whispered in the softest mindspeak to the wind.

  Yes, my lord Stormhammer?

  Akira winced. He didn’t want to make the wind do anything. I’m not your lord, wind kami. I ask a favor.

  A favor? The wind spirit sounded hesitant. You do not command me?

  No. I ask.

  The wind danced around him slowly. What favor would you have me do?

  Rustle the trees over to the left.

  But the Tengu…

  I know, Akira said sharply. Trust me on this.

  The wind kami flew around him with such speed that he thought for a moment he heard the kami laugh. It flew toward the trees to the left as Akira turned toward them. He closed his eyes again to get a bearing on Windcatcher. The wind kami rustled the trees, and Windcatcher watched as the breeze shook the needles and leaves, swirling up the dead leaves like a small tornado.

  Akira opened his eyes and stepped toward the trees, fixing his gaze on them, but his other senses were on Windcatcher. The Tengu hopped down one branch then another to see what Akira would do. Akira stepped backward and sidestepped once, still keeping his eyes fixed on the trees ahead. He had to be certain that Windcatcher would not figure out his trap.

  Windcatcher took a single step and stopped. Akira halted and considered the distance between them. If he could control his ability long enough…

  Akira concentrated. At that moment, the world disappeared and he reappeared before a very
startled Windcatcher, who squawked as Akira brought his katana down on the Tengu. The blade bit into the Tengu’s shoulder and carved a bloody path. Windcatcher screamed in pain and rage and slammed his katana into Akira’s side. The blade bit in, and Akira cried out as the sword cut through flesh and into bone. They both winked out.

  When Akira reappeared, he collapsed on the sand, coughing up blood. The wound would’ve been mortal had he not been Tengu. He could feel his body try to react to the blow; his side both hurt and itched. It made him wonder how the Tengu could really kill him if he healed like this.

  Some wounds can never be healed entirely, Windcatcher said. And then there are those kami who can destroy lesser kami.

  Akira looked up at Windcatcher. No signs of wounds appeared on the older Tengu. It was as though Akira had never even fought him.

  “How—how did you do that?” Akira rasped.

  Windcatcher shrugged. I am much older than you. Stormdancer bore me several thousand years ago.

  Akira stared at the Tengu. He cocked his head slightly. “What did you say?”

  Windcatcher ruffled his feathers. I said I am much older—

  “No, I meant about Ikumi.”

  Stormdancer? Windcatcher considered Akira. That she bore me.

  “Ikumi is your mother?” Akira’s mouth became dry, and he felt his chest tighten.

  The one you call Ikumi? Yes.

  “You’re my brother?” Akira could not hide the shock in his voice.

  The Tengu cocked his head. Yes, I believe that is what you might call me.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Kasumi frowned as she watched the leopard leave. She was no worse off in her duty to find Ikumi and Akira, but now she felt an urgency about it she didn’t before. If Nanashi sent samurai against the Neko, it was only a matter of time before they were forced from Neko-shima. The Neko were great warriors, but their numbers were too few. They often depended on the Shinobi for help, but if what the leopard said was true, Nanashi had bought out the Shinobi.

  She knelt down and rubbed her face with her hands. You must do this alone, my sister. We can’t spare anyone in this fight. Kanayo must be desperate.

  I should return home, she thought ruefully. Kasumi knew that she could fight if she returned, but what good would it do except as a last stand? If the Neko thought that their only hope lay in the Tsuitori samurai, then she had to believe there must be a way for her to save Akira and Ikumi. But how?

  She sat for a while on the ground, looking up at the stars for some kind of enlightenment. Eventually her thoughts drifted, and she closed her eyes to the bright heavens. Surely the goddess would find a way to save her children...

  Kasumi had not closed her eyes long when she felt a presence close by. She forced herself to relax and take even breaths as she sensed the presence slip behind her.

  “You would do better to simply breathe,” said Tenko lightly.

  Kasumi opened her eyes, turned to the kitsune, and glared. “I could’ve killed you.”

  “Unlikely,” Tenko said. “Though no doubt you would’ve been difficult to take on.”

  Kasumi laughed but saw the old man was serious. “You promised me help, fox. I have seen nothing.”

  “That is because you are impatient. Help will arrive soon.”

  “When?”

  “Soon.” With that, Tenko turned into a fox and disappeared.

  #

  Akira sat cross-legged on the sand and stared hard into the setting sun. Windcatcher had flown off many hours ago, leaving Akira alone to brood on his dark thoughts. He had never imagined that his mother might have had another consort before she married Takeshi or that she would’ve borne another son, certainly not a Tengu.

  At first Akira tried to explain to Windcatcher what it meant to be his brother, but it became quickly apparent that the Tengu understood nothing of familial ties. Windcatcher simply shrugged and asked if Akira wanted food. Akira decided to ignore him and sit and watch the sunset.

  Akira didn’t care if Windcatcher understood. What he did care about was how his life as he understood it had been a lie. He remembered how when he was five, he had begged his mother for a brother or sister. He remembered Ikumi laughing the request off, telling him that maybe in time he might have another sibling. But either through fate or something else, Akira had grown up without brothers or sisters. He had been forced to grow up isolated with just his mother and his teachers around him.

  Now he was angry at Ikumi. She had not only kept his heritage secret but also deprived him of knowing he had family among the Tengu. He had longed for brothers and sisters, not knowing that he had at least one brother there. Perhaps he had grandparents and aunts and uncles there too. He might even have an entire family he never knew about.

  Not that they acted like family, he thought. Windcatcher held no more affection to him than he would a bokken or a sword. Akira began to wonder if his mother, Ikumi, could have any sort of affection for him. After all, she was a Tengu...

  A Tengu who chose to be human.

  Akira frowned. This was very confusing to him. How could his mother show affection to a human? Had it been simply curiosity that drew her to Takeshi? Did she grow to love Takeshi and their son? Akira didn’t know. He so much wanted to know and understand what was happening in his life.

  At that moment his sensitive Tengu ears heard the flutter of wings. He turned to see a red hawk looking at him from its perch on one of the tree branches. Another Tengu? he wondered. He picked up a small pebble on the beach and tossed it halfheartedly at the bird. The hawk hopped to the next branch and considered him with its bright eyes. It looked vaguely familiar, but Akira didn’t care.

  “You know, she could’ve told me,” Akira said to the hawk. “She could’ve told me about the Tengu. Now I’m stuck in this form and I don’t have anyone here who can help me.”

  The hawk listened, gazing at him with its bright yellow eyes.

  “You see, all my life I wanted to be something different,” Akira said. “Now that I am something different, I miss home.”

  He curled up on the sandy beach as the last of the sun’s rays disappeared below the horizon and fell into an uneasy sleep.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Kasumi awoke just before dawn feeling tired and uneasy. Her sleep had been troubled by shadows and demons, and she was stiff and sore from sleeping on the kitsune’s mat. She looked around for Tenko but didn’t see him. She guessed he was hunting for his breakfast or perhaps scouting for a way to find Akira.

  She stood up and stretched, rubbing her legs’ cold muscles to restore circulation. She turned and looked to the east. Already the sky was lightening and the stars were winking out one by one. She was not enthusiastic about searching for Akira in the dark created by the long shadows. Demons often hid in the shadows, looking for unsuspecting travelers, and she also expected that the demon following her would try to catch her off guard.

  Still, there wasn’t much food here, and hunger gnawed at her. She would have to cook her own rice. She thought about turning into a cat and hunting, but she disliked mice; they upset her stomach too much. Hunting deer or even livestock as a tiger had its advantages, but she didn’t want to stuff herself. So she settled on becoming a small cat to try to beg a free meal from some of the townspeople.

  She turned into a sleek cat with dark brown points on her ears, legs, tail, and nose. The rest of her fur held a slightly bluish cast, and she glanced back at her long, lithe body in appreciation. She loved being a little cat as much as being a large tiger. But while tigers would cause a stir, a little housecat would go unnoticed. She suspected she could at least find something in the village.

  She thought about going to Yutsui, but she decided instead to go to the fishing village where she had seen the storm blow through. It sat on the southeast corner of the island, and while it wasn’t very big, she knew they would have fish and maybe some rice. Fish was always a preferable meal; her Neko body demanded meat when others tended to eat
primarily rice and some vegetables.

  Still, there would be bigger game if she turned into a tiger. Tsuitori was large enough for deer, feral pigs, and maybe some wild cattle. It might even have the wolves that preyed on them. She twitched her tail at the thought of tasting wild boar but continued padding down the trail with her soft paws that made no sound along the forest floor.

  Kasumi had walked for some time when the forest gave way to the beach and the harbor near the town. The sun had just crested the horizon, and its rays turned the water red. She paused as she saw the devastation. People were picking their way through the wreckage, looking for survivors. A few women were wailing as they pulled the lumber off bodies.

  The sour stench of death reached her nostrils, and Kasumi wrinkled her nose. She backed up and snuffed the air. Beyond the stench of death was the unmistakable musty odor of Tengu. She held her mouth slightly open to receive the scents so she could sort through them.

  “Kuri, look! A cat!”

  A boy, barely ten by Kasumi’s reckoning, peered over the debris and pointed to her. Kasumi swished her tail in displeasure at her discovery. His clothing hung off his skinny frame in rags, and he bore several cuts and bruises from the night before.

  “Here, Neko! Come, I have fish!” The boy knelt down and called to her.

  Kasumi hesitated. She took a step forward then another. Her stomach rumbled. Her hunger made her a bit reckless. Maybe the child would give her food. She stepped forward again.

  “Got you!”

  She screamed in surprise as she was grabbed by the scruff from behind. Kasumi had been so focused on the boy in front of her that she didn’t notice another boy sneaking up behind her. She hissed and spit as the boy tossed her unceremoniously into a sack. “Good job, Kuri!” He chortled. “We have dinner now.”

  Dinner? Kasumi found herself in a roughly woven sack, stinking of rotting fish. She hissed and scratched at the bag, snagging her claws on the rough material. What barbarians would eat cat for dinner? She found herself swinging upside down in a most undignified manner.