He took a long look at her. “No. You didn’t.” He sighed. “For all you know, you’re carrying blank documents, or forgeries that are supposed to fall into someone else’s hands. It’s obvious that you were sent out as bait to smoke someone else out and it looks like it worked, chibi,” he said, calling her a runt. “And now that they’ve failed, do you think this will be the last attempt they’ll make?” He snorted back a laugh. “It’s only the first! It’s good that I am trained.” He nodded to himself. “Good that I took it on myself to follow you. These are the sorts of things,” he sniffed, “that you can’t learn in a training hall.”
Yamabuki did not have even the slightest look of appreciation on her face. “That you got involved is true,” she said, “and that your sword dispatched the one calling himself Iebō is undeniable, but one of them was already down when you entered the fray. He was bleeding from the mouth. I got his lung. He was finished with or without you.” She held her voice steady. “I am confident that the other one would have fallen quickly.”
“You’re just telling yourself a story. I watched the whole thing. I only stepped in when I saw that you were in over your head.”
“The only way to have found out was if you had stayed out of it.”
Long Sword chuckled. “There’s that sharp tongue again.” He paused. “Come with me and I’ll give you real training, the kind you did not get from the Taka.”
Yamabuki said nothing, looking at him impassively.
He snorted. “You’re like the Ōuchi. You’re afraid to get hurt during training. I ask, ‘When are they going to find out their students do not have enough skill?’ They’ll find out, just as you did just now. You aren’t ready. But I shall teach you, and in a few years, if you survive, you’ll be on your way, and better for it. Remember our agreement back on the boat? We shall fight with sticks, and if you lose, you will follow me.”
Yamabuki quietly stepped toward Mochizuki, taking his bridle. “I shall be on my way. I am a Taka bushi on an assignment, regardless of your speculations about intrigue, and I have made no agreement with you, so if you would, please stand out of the road so that I may pass.”
“If not more ninja, there are rough men out there—and not kind like me. They’ll have their way with you, you know.”
So that’s why he keeps gawking at me. He wants to have nan’in with me! It’s what he’s wanted all along. First when he thought I was a boy, and now that he knows I’m a woman.
“I am able to take care of myself,” she said firmly.
“I’ve seen what you can do. You didn’t do so well. You owe me your life.”
“As I just said, you do not know how that match would have ended. You interfered. I owe you nothing.”
He grew grim. “Be careful, girl. Careful before you make a decision that you won’t live to regret.”
“I will be on my way.” She glared at him.
“You won’t last!” He glared back. “You’ll be a morsel for the first truly tough guy who comes along.”
“We shall find out.”
“We find out now!” His steel hissed against his scabbard. He raised the field sword over his head in the prepare position—an excellent position where the reach of the blade was at its optimum. He stood, supreme in his indigo yoroi, with the look of a man who expected only victory or capitulation.
“You’ve drawn steel against me,” she said, dropping her voice low, “so tell me, please, what is your name, so that I know who it is that I am about to kill.”
Twenty:
There Will Be No Second Chance
“So you would dare to challenge me!” Long Sword’s cheeks flushed, for Yamabuki had taken the next step in a formal duel: the request for an exchange of names. In a tone certainly lower than hers, he obliged her, growling, “I am Shima Sa-me. It means ‘Shark Island.’ I’ve killed too many to count. Easily more than that boatload of Ōuchi earlier today . . . and now I’ll add a girl to my list. We’ll soon see what those old fools have taught you, sorry though you’ll be for it.”
“I am Taka Tori Yamabuki, daughter of General Moroto, who is also my teacher, and no fool.”
“Moroto’s daughter, eh?” He lifted his chin in disdain. “Well, it can’t be helped.” He paused again, then commanded at last, “You want to fight? Then draw!”
She did not. Instead she commanded, “Out of my way!” Again resorting to the lowest register she could muster, she growled, “I must pass.” She led her mount forward, her left hand on Tiger Claw’s hilt.
“What if I just add a nick to your other cheek?”
The noon sun glinted off his blade. The nodachi’s reach was breathtaking. He moved toward her.
Yamabuki let go of Mochizuki’s reins and backed up slowly, not taking her eyes off Shima’s. His eyes, not his blade, would show when he would strike.
“You afraid? Afraid to draw, chibi?”
She recalled Nakagawa’s words, “A field sword is designed to bring down horses as they run past. It’s meant to do battle in the wide open.”
She certainly was not some foolish horse about to gallop past him in the open. She backed up carefully, retreating toward the trees; but immediately she found her feet were on progressively rougher terrain, covered with underbrush and the protruding branches of fallen trees.
She did not dare look away from Shima’s gaze to check what was behind her. Still, with few alternatives, she continued to work her way toward the woods.
Shima easily recognized her tactic and immediately flanked her, keeping her parallel to the tree line.
“You didn’t think you could escape into the woods that easy, did you?”
He advanced, forcing her onto even more uncertain ground covered with thin new-growth trees. She knew they were too slender to offer cover or protection, for his field sword could shear them like grass. But he did not strike—at least not yet.
She soon found herself in the midst of a maze of nascent yellow pine, none of whose trunks were any thicker than her wrist. Pieces of dry, fallen bark snapped under her feet. The air filled with the scent of humus. The trees smelled of sap.
“Are you going to draw, or have you accepted your fate?”
“There is still time to call this off,” Yamabuki hissed. “Once I draw steel, there’s no going back.”
She watched his jaw set.
“Don’t force me kill you,” she said flatly.
Obviously angered by her audacious pronouncement, he showed his upper teeth, almost as if he intended to bite her. Then she saw his eyes narrow.
This is it!
He growled like a bear as his field sword shot straight at her throat in the manner of a lance.
Hindered by the underbrush, she twisted sideways in the nick of time.
The sound of cracking wood filled the air as his sword crashed through the saplings. Splinters flew in every direction; but once his nodachi was within the trees, he could not appreciably change its straight-line path.
He snarled, “That was luck!”
He immediately drove the tip at her again, and again she moved out of the way, letting the surrounding saplings swallow the blade.
Shima gritted his teeth. His eyes flashed. “Let’s try this, then!”
He swung the field sword horizontally at chest height, slashing his way toward her. Whoosh! The sound of the air moving before the sword was almost a howl. The saplings snapped as the nodachi cut down the young trees.
He growled with each swing, further leveling the shrubs each time.
Sweat trickled down Yamabuki’s face. In no way had she averted the duel. If anything, she was merely prolonging it. Nakagawa’s words again rang in her head: “Some fights are inevitable. Best get them over quick.”
The answer to the nodachi was speed.
Her mouth dry, she grabbed one thick, long branch at her feet.
&
nbsp; I’ll have only one chance.
Yamabuki, her tachi still in its scabbard, bolted from the devastated saplings, brandishing the tree limb.
There will be no second chance.
Sword held high, Shima raced toward Mochizuki to intercept her. But she was not running toward her mount. Instead, she stopped in the middle of the clearing.
I must get him to commit.
“Ha!” he shouted.
He moved toward her, death the one thought clearly written on his face and burning in his mind. Breathing hard. Face red. Eyes red. Teeth bared.
She stood in the open, raising the tree limb. It was about as thick as her wrist and as tall as she.
“Wooden sword,” he spat. “Too late for that, girl. It’s steel now!”
Nakagawa said, “Even a wooden sword, if it’s long enough, can match one of steel.”
So far she had always been just out of range, or had found ways to keep him from making a full strike.
So long as his sword swings go unopposed, he controls the field. Controls everything. Controls me.
She knew that he was counting on one last sweep of his nodachi, out in the open, to finish her.
Their eyes locked as he again raised his sword high.
He lunged, planting his right front foot. With a mighty grunt, he swept his long blade horizontally to cut her in half at the waist.
One chance.
She swung the branch as if it were a field sword of her own. Though the wood did not meet his blade, the unexpected countermove momentarily distracted his concentration. Nevertheless his blade kept coming.
Speed.
As it reached her, she leapt to her back foot.
She gasped as the nodachi tip scraped her corselet. She felt its visceral power push her sideways as it tore straight through her dark-green chest protector. The sound of the blade tip slicing open her armor assaulted her ears. But as she had gambled, the tip failed to penetrate to her skin.
It would have been natural for anyone to withdrawal after such a blow with all its damage, but her training instilled in her one final lesson with the nodachi: stepping away was stepping into death.
One chance.
She leapt forward right behind the arc of his sword’s swath and delivered a sharp rap to his wrist with the branch.
Shima grimaced but did not let go of the massive field sword as he completed the arc from right to left. Then, in one fluid motion he moved in for a return strike, back from left to right.
He had her now.
As he began his second strike, his arms were held high. When he lifted his arms, it also raised his chest armor, exposing the bottom of his ribcage.
Last chance.
She dropped the tree branch and leapt even closer to him, taking a low, elongated stance. Tiger Claw flew from its scabbard, flashing under the noonday sun. Without changing the trajectory of her sword draw, she flipped the tachi’s point forward so that its tip was directed at him. Before he could move, she shifted her weight from back to front and with all her might drove the blade into the vulnerable spot below his ribcage.
He grunted, staggered backward, nodachi still in the overhead position, but then his left leg buckled. Blood trickled from his mouth.
“By a girl,” he gasped.
Still holding her blade from her crouched position, she pulled hard, withdrawing the tachi from his side.
“So,” he gurgled, “you’ve finally killed. . . .”
His other leg buckled and he fell face-first onto the road and lay very still.
She stood up, the blood singing in her ears. As she had been trained, she wiped her blade clean and sheathed it.
She tore off her helmet. Her hair, soaking wet, fell around her shoulders. The slight breeze passed through her moist tresses, more than cool—cold. She shivered. She moved her hand to the corselet of her once-pristine battle armor and slid her palm across the gash, sensing the roughness and splinters, and the woven rings of steel now exposed underneath. Her hand shook.
Insects buzzed. Here and there the cries of birds drifted through the now-calm air.
The three bodies lay in the clearing, as much a part of the landscape as the trees, brush, and blossoms and no more animated than the rocks.
She walked to her mount. He snorted. She had not quite caught her breath.
Gripping his reins she paused, looking at the stirrup, then let go.
She opened her mouth to say something to Mochizuki, but realized her teeth were chattering. Tears filled her eyes. She buried her face in the crook of her arm and wept and wept.
The story continues in Cold Rain.
If you enjoyed Cold Blood . . .
. . . please consider posting a brief review to help others discover the book:
Thank you!
—KML
more . . .
Characters
Akibō: A monk.
Blue Rice: A traveler to Honshu; aka Aoi Ine.
Chi-ye: Dancer and attendant at Wakatake; thousand blessings (literal).
Gankyū: Eyeball (literal).
General Moroto: Yamabuki’s titular father.
Giichi: A Taka retainer to General Moroto.
Iebō: A monk.
Inu: The innkeeper of Wakatake; dog (literal). Member of the Yūkū family.
Ishi-tsuki: Dancer and attendant at Wakatake; stone moon (literal).
Long Sword: An Ōuchi fencing master; aka Shima Sa-Me.
Misaki: Surname of a Nagato sakimori; three blossoms (literal).
Mochizuki: Yamabuki’s Horse; full moon (literal).
Nakagawa: Yamabuki’s tutor; middle river (literal).
Ryuma: A hatchet man at Wakatake; winged horse (literal).
Shima Sa-Me: Island Shark.
Yamabuki: Yellow rose (literal).
Glossary
Akamagaseki: City in Nagato on Honshu, across the Barrier Strait from Kita.
Akitsushima: Ancient name of Japan; Autumn Creek Land (literal).
amigasa: Braided straw hat.
awaré: Sorrow; in the Japanese concept, the transience of all things.
Barrier Strait: The Kanmon Strait.
buké: Warrior; equivalent to bushi.
buri: Yellowtail, or amberjack.
bushi: Warrior; equivalent to buké.
chibi: Runt; twerp.
Chikuzen Province: Northwestern-most district of the Isle of Unknown Fires, bordered on north by the Kanmon Strait.
Ch’u-mo: Chinese monk and poet of the T’ang Dynasty (fl. 850–900). Yamabuki translates his poem, “Shengkuo Temple.”
daimyō: Ruler of hereditary landholdings; often translated as Lord.
Dazaifu : A city of trade and diplomatic relations with foreign countries.
dojo: Studio, often specifically for martial arts study.
dokkoisho: Refrain of a song or poem; pull hard (literal).
fugu: Puffer fish.
Genpei War: Japanese Civil War of 1180–1185; also spelled Gempei.
genpuku: Coming-of-age ceremony for twelve-year-old boys. At this age, a boy was considered an adult.
Great Bay Province/District: Mythical province near present day Miyazaki and Kagoshima. Home of the Taka clan.
haguro: Teeth blackening, a tradition practiced by married women, and some men.
hai: Yes.
hakama: Split trouser-skirt worn over the kimono, commonly worn by the upper classes in this era.
hanabishi: Fire flower; the Ōuchi mon.
hashi: Chopsticks.
Heian-kyō: The capital of Akitsushima; site of present-day Kyoto.
Hō: Ancient name of China.
Hōgen Rebellion: Japanese insurrection in the summer of 1156.
ine: Rice plant.
Isle of
Unknown Fires: Ancient name of isle that today is called Kyushu.
Jingū: Warrior Empress, mother of Hachiman, the War God.
kabuto: Warrior helmet.
kago: Palanquin.
Kanmon Strait: Strait between Honshu and Kyushu.
Kita: City at the Barrier Strait, in Chikuzen.
kobune: Water craft, used to ferry passengers and property.
kozane: Iron platelets sewn together to make armor.
kuge: Aristocracy.
kun: An appellation used in the familiar.
kuso: Shit (colloquial).
Leeward Sea: Body of water known today as the Sea of Japan.
Main Isle: Honshu.
mempo: Facial armor worn by samurai in battle.
Mizuka: Significant trading city on the Isle of Unknown Fires, on the road to the Barrier Strait.
mon: Crest or symbol representing a clan.
mouth-sucking: Kissing.
Nagato: Province on the Main Isle, located on the Barrier Strait, across the strait from Kita. Part of modern-day Yamaguchi Prefecture.
nanigashi: Commoners.
nan’in: Sexual intercourse.
ne: No (colloquial).
New Life Month: A spring month also known as U no hara.
ninja: Hired agent, often an assassin.
nodachi: Field sword; a very long, heavy battle sword.
Ōe: Clan in Nagato.
omeko: The female sexual parts (vulgar); crab meat (literal).
Omiki: Saké that’s offered to the Gods.
Ōuchi: Clan on the Isle of Unknown Fires and Main Isle.
pillow book: A diary.
pole arm: Weapon on a pole.
ronin: Unemployed samurai.
royal carriage: Ox-drawn cart.
sakimori: Historical name for border guards.
sama: Honorific when addressing a superior.
san: Polite salutation, equal to “Mister” or “Miss”; applies to both genders.
Cold Blood Page 7
