by Walt Mussell
Nobuhiro knelt beside him. “Toshi, are you hurt bad?”
Toshi pushed against the ground to bring himself to a sitting position. With each inch, he appeared to swear under his breath. “I’m fine. I stepped in a hole. Just give me a second.”
Nobuhiro studied his brother’s face. Toshi dug his hands into the soft earth, clenching the ground as if trying to draw strength from the soil. A glance at Toshi’s left leg told Nobuhiro why.
Toshi’s calf was bent above the ankle. Fortunately, the skin wasn’t broken.
Nobuhiro patted Toshi’s shoulder. “Rest easy, brother. The night is over for you. I will send help as soon as I can.”
###
Her prayer interrupted, Sen looked at Omi and narrowed her eyes. “You will be discovered. If you hurt Nobuhiro, his brothers will not rest until they’ve found you.”
Omi laughed out loud. “They haven’t discovered me yet. Why would that change?” She threw her head back. Finally, she wasn’t looking. Sen charged, throwing Omi off balance and knocking her over. She jumped on her and began pounding her face, her fury taking over.
“You will not get away with this. I will stop you! Aiii!” Sen winced. A kick in the back of her head stunned her. She rose into the air as Omi threw her off, and landed hard on her side.
She tried to rise, but Omi was quicker, dagger drawn and ready to finish what she started.
“You made it interesting.” Omi’s snicker conveyed death. “I’m impressed. I thought you would go quietly, my friend, willingly sacrificing yourself like a dutiful daughter.”
Sen exhaled and tried to catch her breath. “I am not your friend. I can’t believe I trusted someone like you.”
“I guess your God doesn’t protect you from everything. Oh, well, we all make mistakes. Yours was your last.” Sen’s heart dropped as Omi approached her menacingly, waving the dagger in her hand.
###
The scream captured Nobuhiro’s attention. He stood and glanced in the distance. Two figures struggled in the moonlight.
Sen?
The other must be Omi. Nobuhiro sped up as Sen pounded the person about the face. The prone figure kicked Sen in the head and threw her to the side.
A dagger flashed in the moonlight. He ran as if on air. Limp in rhythm. Stride for stride.
God of Sen, if You do exist, please help me protect her.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Sen eyed the gleaming dagger and scanned the area, searching for another opportunity to escape. Omi wouldn’t make the same mistake again.
“It was nice knowing you.” Omi chuckled and glanced at the well. “Thanks for your help. I now know many Christians in the area. Their lives will change. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Stop, Omi!” rang a male voice that brought warmth to Sen’s heart.
A figure in shadows approached. He was dressed like a tradesman but wore two swords. The mark of a samurai. Despite his off-balance stride, he appeared to be running on air. A mixture of pride and love swept through her soul.
You made it, Nobuhiro. I knew you would.
A feeling of relief washed over her like a cool breeze that made a humid night more tolerable. “It’s over, Omi. Your day and time are done.”
Omi glanced as Nobuhiro closed the distance. “Him? I should be frightened of him?” She rolled her eyes. “Your faith makes you believe in the impossible even more than I imagined.”
###
Nobuhiro had yet to feel Omi’s blade, but she’d already delivered the first blow with her derisive remarks. She was a trained samurai, an expert at fighting.
He was a trained swordsmith, but until today he had never understood what it meant to hold a sword.
He took a breath. “Why? Why attack Christians?”
Her lips curled. “I see you at least learned one lesson. When facing a superior foe, get them to talk. It doesn’t matter. You haven’t a chance.” She inclined her head toward Sen. “If you want your answers, you can ask her. If you get through me, that is.”
Nobuhiro’s gaze darted toward Sen, but his focus never wavered. His face tightened as he prepared himself.
He had faced samurai before.
He had defeated them out of sheer will.
No matter her training, this one would not defeat him.
He unsheathed his father’s sword; the familiar draw of metal on the scabbard perked his ears. He held the blade out to the side as the strength of the steel flowed into him.
“It is over. Your terror ends now. In the name of my father, you are under arrest.”
Omi flipped her dagger to her left hand, drew a sword from her side, and brandished it with gritted teeth. “Your father? You left many years ago. What have you learned since?”
He grasped the hilt with both hands and extended it toward Omi. “We may have had the same teacher, but you obviously did not grasp his lessons.”
Footsteps on pebbles sounded to the left as Sen stood. Omi waved the point of her sword toward her. “Are you so eager to meet your precious God? Do not worry. I will make your death swift.”
Nobuhiro’s stomach twisted tighter. “Sen, stay back.” He would protect her, even at the cost of his own life.
Omi snorted as she placed her dagger in her clothes. “You are brave to face me alone. You will not succeed.” She held her hand out and waved her fingers toward herself. “Come, if you dare.”
Nobuhiro raised the sword and held it level over his shoulder. “I am ready.”
Omi moved first, swinging her sword in a sideways arc. Nobuhiro angled his weapon, catching it as the blades slid down to the hilts. She shoved him back and pirouetted, bringing her sword down hard again. He deflected the blow as she stepped back.
Nobuhiro took the offensive. Two angled thrusts produced only loud noise.
Omi sighed. “Why are you even trying? Were I to be serious about this, I could dispatch you easily.”
His face flushed. Ignore her taunts. He shifted his feet for better support and balance. He swung his sword up and down quickly, stepping forward. Omi strode sideways and extended her blade, waving it directly at him. Nobuhiro swung hard, shoving her blade to the side. She stepped back to give them distance.
He raised his sword over his head and circled around. Omi glided forward. He struck down, hitting Omi’s extended blade. Omi parried, moved her sword level, and slashed him on the leg. He glanced down. A light cut only. It stung, but he would be fine.
Omi turned around and raised her sword high over her head. “I drew first blood. A sign of the outcome.”
Nobuhiro moved forward and extended his sword at belt level. He swung in an arc. Omi blocked. Their blades sparked as they advanced close and pressed against each other.
“You fight well,” Omi said. “I’m impressed.”
Nobuhiro breathed in. “I do not care for your assessment. Keep your opinions to yourself.”
She smiled and shook her head. “What’s the matter, Sakichi? Are you sad? Did you dream of a future with Sen?”
Nobuhiro didn’t blink. “My feelings and future are not your concern. You must be worried. You’re not thinking about the battle at hand.”
He shoved the long hilt into Omi’s face, stunning her. She recovered quickly and kicked him in the shin.
He retreated and then pressed forward again. Omi swung hard, but Nobuhiro deflected her blade to the side. She brought out her dagger suddenly and slid it down the length of his blade. Then, she cut Nobuhiro’s arm and brought her sword handle square into his leg.
Nobuhiro winced. He extended his sword to hold Omi at bay. The pain in his knee cost him his balance. He staggered and fell to his knees.
###
Sen’s heart crashed as Nobuhiro hit the ground. Blood oozed from his wounds. She moved toward him.
Again, Omi smiled wide and motioned her sword toward Sen. “You stay put. Don’t worry about your poor Nobuhiro. Worry about yourself. As soon as I’m done with him, it’ll be your turn.” She fla
shed the dagger in her sleeve. “Make a move to run and this will be in your back.”
Sen clasped her hands and prayed.
Lord, please be with him.
Nobuhiro surged to his feet. Omi slashed a feint at belt level and then brought her sword over her shoulder. From there, she stepped forward, bringing her blade down. He sidestepped, holding his blade level. Their paths crossed. He slashed her arm.
Omi grimaced as her eyebrows rose. “Congratulations, you actually cut me. I’ll wear it as a mark of honor.”
He shook his head. “I’ve yet to be beaten by words, but I look forward to silencing you.”
The twosome circled as swords clashed high several times. Omi turned to step away. Nobuhiro stepped with her and sliced her back.
Omi’s face went red, like a volcano about to explode. “This ends now,” she screamed and stepped toward Nobuhiro, bringing her blade down hard. He brought his weapon up and blocked the thrust. She raised her sword for another strike. He advanced into the small opening and sliced across her side and hand. She staggered back toward the well and dropped her sword, falling to her knees. Her hand caught the edge of the well and she steadied herself.
He held out his sword, pointing it at her. “It is over. Officials have been alerted to your treachery. You will come with me to answer for your crimes.”
Relief washed over Sen. She looked at Nobuhiro. Her hero had come through.
Nobuhiro sheathed his sword. Omi tried to stand, using the well to balance herself. Sen stared at the blood oozing from the wounds. Her eyes moistened.
Omi flicked her hand. Steel flashed in the thin, pale light. Her dagger. Her kaiken. She stood at an angle, knife tip in hand, her cold eyes locked on Sen. “Under arrest? I don’t think so.”
Sen’s hair stood on the nape of her neck.
Omi brought her arm sideways. Sen’s vision was blocked as a white-robed man darted between her and Omi. The figure lunged at Omi and shoved his full weight into her midsection. The force knocked her off balance and threw her backward. She fell into the well, her scream echoing all the way down.
Sen ran and hugged Nobuhiro. The white-robed figure appeared to stare into the well, as if he expected Omi to climb back up. His breaths were heavy and loud.
She stepped toward the man and bowed low. “Thank you, sir. I am forever indebted to you.”
The white-robed figure turned around and bowed in return. Sen rose to look at her unknown benefactor.
Nobuhiro’s father.
Ujihiro appeared and rushed to his father’s side. The elder Tokoda dropped to the ground. It was then that Sen saw it.
Omi’s knife was lodged above the old man’s heart.
Chapter Thirty
Sen watched as Nobuhiro and his brother laid their father on the ground. Samurai began to assemble around them. Where had they been before? One barked orders to bring a stretcher and rouse a doctor. Another called for assistance at the well. Nobuhiro told one man about Toshi and his broken leg. The man gave more directions and assured Nobuhiro he would take care of it.
Sen glanced at the well, which moments before had echoed with Omi’s scream. It was now silent. Okiku’s actions were noble. She likely didn’t welcome the newcomer.
Sen’s gaze fell on Nobuhiro, who was receiving pats on his shoulders and back from the other samurai. A hero celebrated by his heroes. The moment he had dreamed about, ever since the day he had left the castle.
Then he looked at Sen and stared. He was her hero, too.
He walked toward her. “I seem to say this often. Are you injured?”
She shook her head as her tears fell freely. “I’m well enough, thanks to you. You saved my life. Again.”
His face grew red. “I only did what anyone would. I could not bear to see something happen to you.”
“You’re my angel. When Omi was leading me out to the well, I prayed for a miracle. You came.” She leaned forward and whispered. “You are a gift from God.”
Nobuhiro glowed and shuddered at the same time. Then, Ujihiro came up and tapped Nobuhiro’s shoulder. “The doctors are tending to Father and Toshi. We should go.”
###
Nobuhiro fell in step behind Uji, who followed another samurai. Uji had said Father’s wound looked bad, but that he was alive. Nobuhiro would have time to make it up to Father for leaving years ago.
Sen’s words replayed in his head. You’re my angel. Should he tell her he had said a prayer as well? He didn’t know why he had prayed. Maybe Uji’s words that any good help offered should be accepted. The pain from his injuries was minor compared to what he would feel like if he had lost Sen.
Nobuhiro and Uji entered the room. Toshi was sitting up near the entrance, his left leg in a splint. His usual grin grew broader and he laughed. “That’s always the way. Become a hero and you forget about everyone else.”
Nobuhiro chuckled. He was glad to see his brother in good spirits. He remembered the bend in Toshi’s leg when he fell. He would be in a splint for a while. “You’ve never looked better, in my opinion.”
Toshihiro crossed his arms in front of his body. “My leg feels like what a sword must feel when caught between a hammer and an anvil.”
Nobuhiro nodded at his brother. “I’ll remember that the next time I’m in the workshop and you annoy me. How’s Father?”
Toshi jerked his head. “He’s over there. He’s talkative, but his breathing sounds labored. He’s coughing a lot.”
Father lay on a futon. Nobuhiro walked over and knelt by his side. The knife had been removed and the wound on his chest cauterized. The old man tried to sit up.
Nobuhiro grabbed his father’s shoulders and tried to support his back. “Please rest. You’ll be better soon.”
His father’s face turned grim, the likely result of trying to sit up, but he didn’t lie back down. “The pain does not matter. I am not long for this world.”
Uji walked over and knelt on the other side of his father. A sound of dragging caused Nobuhiro to look back. Toshihiro was holding his leg aloft and pushing himself along the tatami mat.
The paper door to the room slid open. Nishioji stood before them. He bowed low. “Excuse me for disturbing you, but we pulled the body from the well.”
“Did she survive?” Uji asked.
“She broke her neck in the fall.”
Toshi grunted. “A pity she did not live for a trial. Such scum does not deserve to die fighting.”
“Nishioji, find Matsubara,” Uji said. “Search Omi’s clothes and personal effects. See if there are any clues as to others involved in this conspiracy. Keep it to yourselves. Report only to me.”
Nishioji bowed again. “Hai.” He closed the door and left.
A hacking cough drew Nobuhiro’s attention. He turned to his father, who stared back. “I see that you have forgiven Nishioji for the transgressions of his youth.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Your shoulders relaxed when he entered. That would not have happened when you were a child.”
Nobuhiro smiled. His father was right. Whatever edge had always risen in Nobuhiro at the sight of his childhood tormentor had vanished into the past. “Father, you don’t miss anything.”
Despite his pain, his father’s face radiated serenity, just as it did when he wrote poetry. He was at peace. “My son, you make me proud.”
Nobuhiro froze. His father’s words, words he had longed to hear, resonated within his head like the clang of the large bells at a Buddhist temple. “Proud?”
“Yes, proud. I know you think me harsh all these years, and maybe I was. But there were reasons for what I did.”
“What were—” Nobuhiro began, but his father raised his hand. Nobuhiro fell silent.
“My son. I have always been a samurai. But my true strength was your mother. When she died, I became morose. I turned inward. You were the youngest. I ignored you when I should have been there to support you.”
Nobuhiro nodded. “I understand.”
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His father coughed again. “I moved the three of you to the castle so I could look after you while I worked. However, I saw how you struggled and knew your life would be difficult. I pushed you not to chastise you but to help you to be your best. Unfortunately, I pushed too hard.”
Nobuhiro looked away before turning back. “Be my best?”
“Yes, Nobuhiro. When you were young, you chased your brothers around like any little brother would, but you could not keep up with them. I saw in your face the hurt you felt. My heart ached for you.”
Nobuhiro rubbed his chest. “It never seemed like you cared. Your words were often harsh.”
“Your mother was the one who could provide you with the care and understanding you needed. All I could do was push you to make you better. When she died, I had no idea how to be both mother and father. I have trained men to be samurai for years. I have studied the arts and poetry and can impart wisdom about those things. Yet I do not understand how to show love. It was not part of my training.”
Nobuhiro considered his father’s words. The years. The anguish. It all came flooding back. “So you pushed harder after Mother died?”
“Yes, it was the only thing I knew.”
Nobuhiro fumbled for a response. “But if you cared, then why didn’t you seek me out?”
The old man’s eyed softened and he shook his head. “Do you think I didn’t watch you? It was my job to know everything that occurs in the city. When you left here, I knew where you’d gone almost immediately.”
“But how did you—” Nobuhiro glanced to his front and right without turning his head. Uji tilted his head down to avoid the gaze. Toshi flashed a quick smile through his pain. Nobuhiro again looked back at his father but remained silent.
“I have known your master for many years,” his father continued. “Goami is the best swordsmith in the region. Why would I not be acquainted with him?”
The question was more of a statement. The logic of his father’s words washed over Nobuhiro like an icy bath. His father had looked out for him. “I thought—”
His father again held up his hand. “You thought you remained hidden. Yes. Out of respect for your departure, your decision to make your own way, I never contacted you. But you are still my son. I always knew. Goami has told me many things. He believes you have a gift. From what I’ve heard, I concur.”