Samurai Son

by M. H. Bonham

  But Akira and Takeshi were different. As a ninja, Hiroshi considered himself an outsider, but something drew him to Akira and Kasumi’s plight. Akira had done nothing to truly deserve death; his appearance on Shinobi-jima was the work of trickster Tengu, not his own. The Tengu and the Shinobi had not been fair with him. Shigeko had allowed non-Shinobi to enter the island from time to time without a death sentence.

  Being a ninja, Hiroshi had been trained in the subtle art of detecting lies. Few normal humans could trick a ninja’s sense for truth. Only a ninja, or perhaps one skilled in lying, could dupe someone so trained. Even so, it was easy to tell if the speaker had been trained because of the lack of variation. Hiroshi noted that Akira was a novice when it came to lying or obscuring the truth.

  Listening to Akira’s story, Hiroshi had picked out the patterns of lies within it. Akira was hiding something about Kasumi’s abilities, about the no-dachi, and about the way they had truly escaped Shinobi-jima. But he had not lied about Shigeko, nor did Hiroshi think Akira would have. After all, most samurai found the ninja despicable, and the behavior seemed to confirm the ninja’s already shady reputation. Hiroshi pondered the fact that Shigeko had lied to Kasumi and kept Akira from her.

  Hiroshi knew the ninja had been too interbred for too long. It was common for them to kidnap outsiders and occasionally children to add to their bloodlines. There had been rumors of establishing other ninja schools in the hopes of bringing in new blood. Akira would have been a prize for Shigeko, and if the dragon of the Shinobi thought he should stay, then the dragon would’ve done everything it could to keep him there.

  Akira’s poor attempts at lies intrigued Hiroshi, but they were not a matter of concern at present. Shigeko ordered their deaths, and while Hiroshi was Shinobi, he was also Hiroshi. He had believed most samurai to be like the man he had killed: ruthless, cruel, and arrogant. In truth, they weren’t all like that. Takeshi was kind and fair; Akira and Kasumi were noble enough to challenge a daimyo who would destroy an entire people to bring demons into the world.

  Hiroshi wondered whose side he really was on.

  He stood up, uncertain what he must do. He slid his ninja clothes and weapons in a pack and crept quietly out of his room.

  Chapter Eighty-Nine

  Takeshi frowned as he walked along the compound’s wall. He had not expected Akira to have argued with him before his own samurai, nor rebuke him so roundly. Had Akira not been Takeshi’s only heir, he would’ve been tempted to disown the boy right there for his insolence. But Ikumi’s disappearance was still fresh in his mind, and Akira reminded him so much of her. How could he disown his only son?

  He suspected the Neko girl had gotten her claws into him somehow. Even now, Takeshi suspected Akira was with Kasumi. He sighed as he remembered his own folly, falling in love with a Tengu woman. It was easy to let youthful impulses drive one’s actions. Even older, wiser men had fallen for the allure of a pretty face. Rokuro had been right all those many years before; as wonderful as Ikumi had been, it would’ve been better to have found a human mate.

  Takeshi sighed and glanced up to see Masashige standing silently beside him. The older warrior had been one of Rokuro’s first students, wise and well trained. “The boy is unruly,” Takeshi said.

  “The boy is a man.”

  Takeshi snorted. “He wants me to help the Neko. I bet that girl has bewitched him.”

  “May I speak candidly?” Masashige asked.

  Takeshi paused then nodded. “You don’t think I’m right?”

  “I think you have spent far too much time on Imperial Island instead of Tsuitori,” Masashige said. “If Nanashi does indeed attack Neko-shima, the Kimon may indeed be at risk.”

  “Assuming the Kimon could be opened by Nanashi or anyone human,” Takeshi said, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. If the Kimon even exists.”

  “Oh, it exists, my friend.”

  “Have you seen it?”

  “I do not need to see the dragons or the gods to know that they exist. The Kimon exists—as surely as the foul weather it brings.”

  “You believe those old sailor stories?”

  Masashige shrugged. “You believe in Tengu, don’t you?”

  Takeshi looked askance. “It would provoke Nanashi into a war, a war we don’t need.”

  “Perhaps it is not you who has made that decision,” Masashige said. “Perhaps it is Nanashi.”

  Takeshi shook his head and continued walking, leaving Masashige standing alone.

  #

  Dawn had not yet broken when Kasumi quietly opened the door and peered into the hallway. The oil had burned low in the lamps, leaving lazy flames to lick at the few drops left, which threw the hallways into shadows. She sniffed the air tentatively and looked back at Akira. There’s no one, she mindspoke to him.

  Akira nodded. They had slipped out earlier, after their lovemaking, to his room, and he had taken his armor. It wasn’t quite complete; most samurai collected the pieces over their lifetimes. He had no proper shin guards, extra padding, and a full headdress and mask on his helmet, but it was his. Many of the pieces were from other Tsuitori samurai, long dead; some had been his ancestors. Akira had worked on it when he was younger to clean and personalize the pieces. He smiled grimly when he saw the hawk crest on it.

  Kasumi’s armor had been a bit more problematic. She had lost her helmet and part of her armor during their adventures. Akira was able to complete her armor by searching Ikumi’s trunk. The armor was somewhat mismatched, but it fit Kasumi well.

  Akira silently led Kasumi to the back door. He doubted anyone would be looking for them or even suspect they would slip out in the middle of the night.

  You’re just as bad as the Shinobi, Windspirit said.

  No, I’m not, Akira replied distractedly. He kept his senses on alert for anything unusual, but the rooms and hallway were dark, and the occupants within the rooms sounded asleep. They made it to the end of the hall to the back door and Akira paused. He slowly opened the door and looked out.

  The night wind greeted him as he peered out into the compound. The air was cool, and the night wind spoke of no one present. Akira slipped out, motioning Kasumi to follow him. He noted that Kasumi snuffed the air as she did so. While the night wind would not lie to him, he trusted Kasumi’s senses more. Winds could be tricked, but he suspected a cat’s nose was too sensitive to be duped. Kasumi’s hand rested on her sword pommel, and she pulled her katana out of its scabbard.

  Akira followed suit, drawing Windspirit. Looking behind the house, all he could see was the immaculately groomed garden and, farther beyond, a grove of pine trees. He glanced at Kasumi, who nodded. “Who’s there?” Akira demanded in a low voice. “We know you’re there; there is no use in hiding.”

  A figure stepped out of the pine grove with his hands held up. Akira and Kasumi slowly walked over to the man, cautiously looking for any others. Akira glanced at Kasumi, who shook her head in response. There’s no one else, she said.

  The man, simply dressed in black, was younger, roughly the same age as Akira and Kasumi, maybe a little older. Akira recognized him as one of Takeshi’s retainers, Hiroshi. “What are you doing here?”

  “Waiting for you,” Hiroshi said. “No, Takeshi doesn’t know anything. I’ve come here on my own. You see, I agree with you.”

  Akira frowned. “You agree with us? You don’t even know what we’re doing. For all you know, we could just be sneaking into the forest for a little dalliance.”

  “Don’t think I’m that stupid,” Hiroshi said. “You’re leaving tonight to help the Neko. You’re going to fight Nanashi at the demon gate.”

  Akira glanced at Kasumi, who shook her head. I don’t trust him, she said in mindspeak. He stinks of dragon; I don’t know what that means.

  Akira considered her words. He wondered if Hiroshi could be a kami like Kasumi and he were. If so, Hiroshi could be untrustworthy. “Let’s say for a moment that we were going to Neko-shima,” he said. “How could yo
u help us?”

  “I’ve already booked passage to Neko-shima for three. The ship departs within an hour.”

  “How did you get us passage?” Kasumi said.

  “Trade secret.”

  Akira shook his head. “You said there’s passage for three. Who else is coming—you?”

  “Yes.” Hiroshi lowered his hands and picked up his pack.

  “No deal,” Akira said. He turned to Kasumi. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  Hiroshi stepped in front of them. “The passages are in my name, and what’s more, if you don’t take me, I will alert Takeshi.”

  Akira considered the man in front of him. He had no doubt he could take on the man with Windspirit, but he hadn’t planned on killing anyone unless he absolutely had to. It was one thing to fight one’s way out of Shinobi-jima; it was quite another thing to kill men loyal to his father. Even though Kasumi didn’t trust the man, Akira knew this might be their only way off Tsuitori-jima. “All right,” he said, “but if there is any treachery, both of us are prepared to fight our way out.”

  Hiroshi nodded. “I’m certain you will not be disappointed.”

  Chapter Ninety

  “Land ahead!”

  Akira strode over to the bulwark aboard the junk on which Hiroshi had booked passage for them. He looked out over the sea to the northwest, hoping to catch a glimpse of the mysterious island Kasumi hailed from. It was still far away—so far that even with his Tengu eyes, he could make out little save a distant gray rise shrouded in mist against a gray-green sea.

  Not even the air brought a hint of landfall, but the wind blew from the southeast. Still, Akira half expected to see gulls or other seabirds that heralded the land.

  He gripped the railing and sighed. The junk was typical of many of the boats that sailed in this part of the world. Its three masts each had a ribbed sail that enabled the sailors to move the sail as required to catch the wind. The mainmast stood in the center, its sails completely unfurled; the smaller sails on the fore and stern were only partially open. They, along with the red flags, snapped loudly in the breeze. It was a large boat, considering the trip, and Akira marveled how Hiroshi had managed to book passage on it.

  It had been five days since they had left port from Tsuitori, and Akira was as anxious as Kasumi to get to Neko-shima. But now that he had been on the boat for a few days with little to do other than worry about his choices, he rethought his hastiness. He knew that his feelings for Kasumi were behind his decision but questioned his judgment on leaving Tsuitori without his father’s help. Without Tengu powers, he was little better than a mortal who could do rudimentary magic.

  You have me, the no-dachi reminded him. And you know you are right.

  True, but you are only one sword, and I am but one man. Akira shook his head. There was no sense in regretting the decision he made. He was here and he had agreed to help the Neko any way he could. It was the right thing to do.

  Kasumi had grown sick since they left the island. At first, Akira attributed it to seasickness, but she explained that it was most likely demon-sickness from her encounter with the demon who would possess her within a year. The first two days had been hellish for her, but by the third day, she was able to drink sips of water and even eat a biscuit or two. He would spend much of his time simply curled up with her, hoping she would feel better.

  Hiroshi had made himself scarce on the boat since their journey began. Considering the boat wasn’t that big, Akira wondered how the man seemed to slip away. Kasumi was more suspicious of Hiroshi, mentioning often that he smelled of dragon, even more so in tighter quarters. Akira didn’t know what that meant. It could simply mean that Hiroshi might have had a dragon ancestor. There were legends of those whose ancestors were dragons, such as the Shinobi, but so far, Akira had seen nothing in Hiroshi’s demeanor that made him think the man was a ninja.

  Akira stared out at the island in the distance and thought he saw flashes of light low on the waves. That the normal humans aboard the ship could have seen the land from this far out amazed him, but he suspected the sailors were familiar enough with Neko-shima to know where it lay. Still, he cocked his head in puzzlement and tried to discern what he was seeing.

  “What’s wrong?” Kasumi came up beside him, quiet as a cat. He knew she could sense his uneasiness as he looked out over the waves.

  “I don’t know,” he said. He couldn’t readily explain the feeling of dread to her. “Is Neko-shima always surrounded by fog?”

  “Not always but we do have a fair amount of inclement weather. I think it’s the wrong season for it, although I might be mistaken. It’s been a while since I’ve been back,” Kasumi said. Her brow furrowed and she sniffed the wind. “I don’t smell anything, but the wind is in the wrong direction.”

  He looked around for a wind spirit and saw several, but they were coming from the same bearing as the boat had. Still, he spoke to them.

  Sea Winds! Have you spoken to the island winds along Neko-shima?

  The winds said nothing, and Akira continued to stare out at the island. The mist around the island thickened, and as they continued forward, Akira could make out something moving through the fog. The flashes of light took on a reddish cast, and Akira realized he was looking at fires.

  “That’s not mist.” Akira turned and ran across the deck to a woman who stood on the deck near the stern, talking to the steersman at the rudder. Kasumi followed him, only a step behind. “Neko-shima is being attacked!” he said.

  “Attacked?” Kasumi’s face grew pale. “Are you sure?” She glanced in the direction of Neko-shima and back at Akira.

  The captain turned toward him. The older woman had many scars across her face and hands, and her braided hair was gray from years of age and being at sea. Dressed like the other sailors in a tunic and blousy pants tied up with a large obi of various colors, one couldn’t tell she was the captain on sight. “Are you certain, Takeshi-sama? The lookouts aren’t reporting anything.”

  “He’s sure,” came Hiroshi’s quiet voice. Akira turned, startled by the sudden appearance of the man. “If Takeshi-sama says Neko-shima is under attack, it’s under attack.”

  Akira stared at Hiroshi and felt a prickling along his skin. He shook his head and turned to the captain. “I can see fires through the fog—only it’s not fog. It’s smoke.”

  “Nanashi has beaten us here.” Kasumi chewed her lip.

  “Turn the ship around,” the captain said to the steersman.

  “No, you can’t!” Kasumi argued.

  The captain turned to her. “We’re a merchant vessel, not a ship of war. If Neko-shima is under attack, we have no way to defend ourselves. We better make port on Taka-shima or one of the other islands.”

  Kasumi glared at Akira, and he stroked his chin. “Are there other ports on Neko-shima?”

  The captain shook her head. “No, and if there were, if this port is under attack, any others would be too. We can’t risk it.”

  Hiroshi stepped forward. “There’s a hidden port on the west side of the island. Nanashi wouldn’t know about it.”

  Kasumi turned and stared at him. “How do you know about the hidden port? You haven’t been to Neko-shima.”

  At that moment a hawk screeched overhead. Akira looked up, puzzled by the sound. Hawks were not sea creatures, although many hunted along the coasts for fish. Even so, he didn’t expect to see a red hawk this far over the ocean without a hurricane or typhoon blowing it out to sea.

  The hawk screeched again, and this time he heard words within the scream: Follow! Follow!

  Akira cocked his head and stopped, remembering how Tengu the behavior was. He felt Kasumi’s warm hand in his own.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “That bird.” Akira stared at the hawk as it circled ahead once then set out west. “It wants us to follow it.”

  “What?” said the captain. “You want us to follow that bird? Are you mad?”

  Hiroshi looked up, following the hawk’s silhou
ette against the western sun. “It’s going the same direction as the hidden port.” He paused. “Could it be one of your Tengu?”

  “Tengu?” The captain frowned. “We’re to listen to those tricksters?”

  Something within Akira twisted, and his throat felt tight. The hawk reminded him of Ikumi. “I don’t think this one means any harm.”

  “We’ll be sailing away from the battle fleet,” Kasumi added.

  The captain nodded her head. “All right,” she said. “May the gods look after us fools. We’ll follow that bird, but the first hint of trouble, I’m getting my ship out of here.”

  “Agreed,” said Akira.

  The captain shouted orders to turn the ship westward. The junk turned slowly to port as the steersman moved the rudder. Akira and Kasumi stood at the bow, looking for the hawk. He could just see it to the northwest, skirting along the island. As he watched, he heard a shout from one of the sailors on the starboard side. He turned and saw a ship coming from the direction they had been heading prior to seeing the hawk.

  “Akira,” whispered Kasumi, her face pale. “That’s one of Nanashi’s warships.”

  Chapter Ninety-One

  Akira frowned as he saw the line of the warship come into view. It moved faster than he expected, and he wondered if perhaps Nanashi was using magic to speed it. The captain shouted orders to the crew, and men rushed around, setting the rigging for maximum speed. Both Akira and Kasumi moved out of the way so the sailors could do their jobs.

  “Akira! Do something!” Kasumi pleaded.

  Akira frowned. The wind kami were fickle at best even when responding to the Tengu magic. He couldn’t use that magic—not now, not when they were so close. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the winds around him. Sea Winds! he shouted in mindspeak. Sea Winds! I beg a favor of you!