Rise of the Sword Saint: A Reincarnation Epic Fantasy Saga (Kensei Book 2)

by DB King

  He couldn’t help but admit, in the small corners of his mind, that he feared what he might do to them should they betray him. What would become of the village, if they were to do what the Hollowed Knight and the others had done to Jin? Betrayal. It would surely stoke the flames of Jin’s wrath.

  He shuddered at the thought of what he might be capable of.

  “I think I’d like to see the sun for a while…” Jin finally said. He had regained enough of his strength to try and go outside for some warmth.

  “Suit yourself,” Yojimbo shrugged. “Just don’t push your body too hard.”

  Jin sat up and winced at the fluctuating pangs of pain in his chest. What was that? Jin wondered.

  He wasn’t wounded. There was no bruising of any sort or any break or fracture in his ribcage—all of which would have healed in moments anyway. It was a strange sort of pain—not quite physical, but not quite mystical either. There was a weight to it, almost as though he was stabbed by a particularly heavy, but incredibly thin, needle right into the center of his chest. It hurt, but it wasn’t unbearable. He’d had far worse things than a needle pierce his chest and come out the other side.

  It was just mildly annoying—made even more annoying by the fact that he did not know what was causing it and why. It was very likely magical in nature, probably a slow-acting curse that dealt damage to his body over a long period of time, but, then again, Jin could only guess, and he’d never really heard of curses in this new world. I’ll just have to figure it out later, he decided.

  Regardless, Jin forced himself up and stretched his limbs, wincing as he did. His legs were still rather wobbly—again, a mystery, considering his regeneration—and his arms still sagged. His whole body was heavier, and moving took a great deal of effort. But he could move, at least, and that was what mattered. He didn’t want to be stuck on some makeshift bed for another ten hours if he could help it. Besides, Jin wanted to see what Yojimbo had been up to for the last several months. Though they maintained constant communications, Jin hadn’t been fully aware of what the foreigner was up to.

  Jin’s legs gave way. He found himself falling, but his right arm quickly launched out and grabbed the nearest thing it could. Luckily, his fingers had wrapped themselves around a rock on the wall, which prevented him from falling further. Jin’s chest heaved as he caught himself, eyes wide.

  “That… was… close.”

  Yojimbo clicked his tongue and shook his head. “You should probably just stay in bed, boss. If you die out there in the cold, I’d lose my source of income. That’d be just sad, don’t you think?”

  Jin groaned. “Shut up and give me a few seconds. I’m still recovering.”

  The foreigner shrugged and chugged down another cup of rice wine in a single gulp. “Suit yourself, boss.” He stood up. “I’ll be outside. I have to meet our new instructor. He’s promised to teach my boys how to move with absolute silence, since a blind, deaf, grandmother could probably figure out where they are whenever they’re marching in the forest. Honestly, I’d hoped they’d understood the whole concept of guerilla warfare when I explained everything, but I might’ve set my expectations a little too high with these monkeys.”

  Jin nodded. Yojimbo’s band was stealthy enough for a guerilla army, but if someone could make them even stealthier, that could only be a boon—an army that could strike, unseen, from anywhere and nowhere was more dangerous than a host of bushi.

  “Where did you find this new instructor?” Jin asked.

  “We didn’t,” Yojimbo answered. “He just showed up in my tent one night and asked if he could offer us his services. No one saw him walk into the camp, even when I had over a hundred sentries keeping watch over every possible entrance. He slipped right through and laughed at our defenses. And so I asked him if he could teach my boys how to sneak, like he does, and he accepted.”

  Jin raised an eyebrow. “Someone snuck through your defenses so easily?”

  It was probably a master shinobi of some kind. Though, it was strange for one to seek out an employer when the coming war would surely have every lord fighting over the shadow warriors. They were incredibly rare, incredibly expensive, and incredibly effective. Every lord and their dog would soon be lining up to hire them.

  So, what was one doing here and why?

  One possibility was that this shinobi had been sent to kill Yojimbo, but that seemed a little odd. The shinobi had snuck through the sentries, passing by the tents and the soldiers, and entered Yojimbo’s tent without anyone noticing, but said shinobi did not proceed to kill Yojimbo right then and there. No, the other possibility was that this shinobi had been sent to gather information and was here on someone else’s behalf.

  Yojimbo nodded. “He’s a master shinobi of some kind, but a part of me doesn’t think so. He certainly doesn’t act like any of the shadow warriors I’ve ever seen, and he also doesn’t use any of their weapons. The man only carries around a tanto. He’s really good with it, though. It’s scary how someone of his age can easily take down five of my boys without breaking a sweat.”

  Jin huffed and straightened, pushing himself away from the rock perch he’d held onto. He winced and laid a hand on his chest. The sharp, stinging pain returned for a moment before disappearing just as quickly. Jin breathed in and released a long and shaky breath.

  Just what was wrong with his body? He looked inward with his magic and found nothing of note. Everything should have been fine, but his regeneration wasn’t healing his grogginess as it ought to. And then there was that phantom pain in his chest. Something’s going on inside me that even my magical senses can’t detect, he thought. I have to figure it out soon so I can deal with it.

  The worst problem, however, was the blankness in his head. No matter how much Jin tried to remember the events that led up to his awakening in Yojimbo’s tent, he couldn’t. It was as though something had ripped out his memories, leaving nothing but a blank haze of thoughts, alongside a particularly nasty headache whenever he tried looking into it too much.

  Jin shook his head. “What’s his name?”

  “He calls himself Nobito No Yoritsumo,” Yojimbo answered.

  Jin’s eyes widened at the name. How long had it been since he’d heard it?

  “Have you heard of him?” Yojimbo asked.

  Jin paused and straightened. Nobito No Yoritsumo, the one who taught me the Blade of the Feather-Moon?

  That old bag of bones was still alive? Jin had assumed the old man had perished during the attack on his old home, dying alongside all his teachers and all the guests. In hindsight, despite his age, Nobito was a master assassin and infiltrator. It would have been quite easy for him to sneak out of the castle, without anyone spotting him. That man could sneak up on Hamada in broad daylight, Jin thought, and father wouldn’t notice until the old man placed the tip of a dagger at his throat.

  “Damn… he really lived through that ordeal, huh?” Jin muttered.

  Yojimbo tilted his head. “So, you do know him?”

  Jin nodded. “He taught me the Blade of the Feather-Moon. It’s an assassination sword-style that very few people have ever heard of. I believe that not even the Shinobi are aware of it. Nobito’s probably the best assassin in Moyatani,” Jin admitted, taking another step forward, but then stopping immediately as his body wobbled and his head spun. “I’m great at killing people without getting noticed, but my former master is on an entirely different level.”

  Yojimbo bellowed a hearty laughter before laying a heavy hand on Jin’s shoulder. “Well, it’s a good thing that he’s on our side then, yes? And, not only that, he’s teaching my miscreants his art. I see this as an absolute win!”

  Jin groaned and shoved the man’s hand away. “He’s only teaching your boys the basics. He’s probably here for another reason. How much are you paying him?”

  “About a hundred silver coins a month, alongside food, water, and his own tent,” Yojimbo answered. “All these things I find to be very reasonable. Heck, I’d eve
n say he was selling himself short, given your apparent admiration for him, which begs the question of why.”

  Jin nodded. Nobito was always a shifty old man. Undoubtedly, Jin’s old teacher was likely also spying on them the whole time he was staying in Castle Murasaki. If he was spying for their enemies, then Jin would kill him as soon as he possibly could. If he was spying for someone else, who was unrelated to the death of his father and the destruction of his home, Jin might just forgive him and give him a particularly harsh pat on the back. After all, sending spies to allied courts was not uncommon. In fact, Jin knew several of his father’s servants had been spies for allied clans. They were mostly harmless, and Hamada had been aware but didn’t care too much about it since he did the same thing every day.

  “He’s very likely here as a spy,” Jin said. “Which means someone’s found out about our operation, somehow, and is looking to gain more information about what your band is doing. Have you told him anything?”

  Yojimbo nodded. “Well, he knows that we’re an army that’s not meant to fight in the open. But he doesn’t know who we’re working for and why. As it stands, my boys are simply one of the many roving war-bands all across Moyatani. We just happen to have more resources.”

  “That’s fine, I suppose.” Most of Yojimbo’s warriors were unaware of their continued employment under Jin. Sure, the early members, those who came from Yojimbo’s little bandit gang, were aware of the fact that Yojimbo, their boss, had another boss, who was calling all the shots, but the latest recruits likely weren’t aware, which meant Nobito was very likely unaware of the fact that Jin was in control of Yojimbo’s war-band. “I’ll go and meet him. I’ll tell him you found me floating down a river and you decided to do something good for once in your life.”

  “Eh, fine. That’ll probably do it,” Yojimbo replied, shrugging. His face was flushed red from all the rice wine he’d been drinking. “He hasn’t seen your face yet, so that excuse might just work.”

  Jin shook his head. Nobito was too dangerous a person to deal with the same way he dealt with everyone else. A master assassin with dubious loyalties was a problem. It would have been a lot better if the old man wasn’t here to begin with, but Jin could not deny the benefits of having him teach Yojimbo’s band of miscreants how to walk without getting seen.

  I could just choose not to meet him at all, but I’d rather figure out what he’s up to before I head back to Hirata, Jin thought. Otherwise, I’ll always have a proverbial dagger at my back. No, I can’t leave unless I’m certain of his motives.

  For all he knew, Nobito might have been a spy for the Muramasa family, which led to the fall of Jin’s home and family. It didn’t matter how much the old man had taught Jin or how many of his so-called secret techniques he’d shared with Jin, if Nobito betrayed Jin’s family, then he was going to die—of that there was no question or doubt.

  “Are you sure you’re fit to go out as you are, boss?” Yojimbo asked, raising a single hand and using it to push Jin back with barely any force. Jin struggled to maintain his upright posture, but otherwise did not fall down. “See? You just barely managed to survive that.”

  “I’m fine,” Jin reassured, though he wasn’t quite sure if his words were for Yojimbo or for himself. “I’ll be fine. I’ve been through much worse.”

  “It’s good to see you again, Jin.”

  Jin froze.

  That was Nobito’s voice. It came from right behind him.

  Jin felt the tip of a blade sticking against the back of his neck.

  When did he—

  Of course…

  “It’s good to know you’re still alive, my student.”

  Chapter 17

  “It’s good to know you’re still alive, my student.” Nobito said coolly. The master assassin sounded just a tad bit older. His voice seemed rougher around the edges, tired and ragged.

  Nobito’s tone had lost quite a lot of the arrogance and pride it once had.

  The edge of the blade was cold at the back of Jin’s neck. Its tip was dangerously close to just piercing his skin and spine. It’d take Nobito less than a second to plunge his blade deep. He’d heal through it, of course, but Jin would first have to suffer through ten seconds of paralysis, assuming his former teacher bothered to stop at stabbing just the back of his neck. There were still plenty more places to stab and wound severely. The neck just happened to be fatal for most people.

  At that point, he was already beaten.

  Jin chuckled.

  Then again, he could be a very sore loser. After all, even paralyzed, Jin could still unleash the full brunt of his magical powers, releasing a deadly wave of blazing infernos and arcing bolts of lightning to destroy everything around him. Not even Nobito could escape something of that magnitude. There was simply nowhere to run to at that point. But, still, Jin admitted, such a thing was meant to be used for when he was all out of options—at the lowest possible point he could reach.

  For now, he knew enough of Nobito No Yoritsumo’s tricks to land an effective counter, without getting himself stabbed at the back of the neck and paralyzed for the next ten seconds. “Don’t act too surprised, Jin. Did you really think those brutes could kill me or that I would let myself die in that castle?”

  Jin wasn’t listening.

  The tip of the blade is squarely over the center of the back of my neck, Jin noted, using every bit of his senses to scan his body and the blade. He did not know Nobito’s exact bodily position and he did not have enough time to try and find out. The master assassin was, well, a master at playing tricks on his enemy’s senses, making them miss the tiniest of details. But the blade’s angle indicated a limited range of movement. Nobito was staying out of Jin’s range—but that only gave him the option to thrust the blade forward another two inches, just enough to pierce Jin’s spine.

  And so there was really only one thing to do in that moment.

  Jin rolled forward, ducking underneath the blade’s tip. He twisted and rolled on the ground. Agito was nowhere near him. His companion was on the table a few feet away. And so, as he turned, Jin held out his right hand instead. Blue sparks of electricity coiled around his fingers, dancing and arcing outward. “Hello, teacher. I’ve grown a lot stronger since we last met.”

  Nobito stood there, grinning. The old man looked a lot older than the last time Jin had seen him. His face sported numerous wrinkles and his eyes were restless. Nobito’s beard had grown out of control, covering the entirety of his neck.

  Jin’s former teacher lowered his tanto, its edges dulled with constant use. The weapon looked as though it hadn’t been maintained for a long time. “Your response was excellent, my former student. It seems I have taught you well.”

  Lightning cackled from his fingers. Jin’s eyes narrowed, his eyes glowing blue. Flames erupted from his left hand, burning through the rick silk and thick furs that made up most of the floor. The air vibrated and thrummed with Jin’s magical energies. A dreadful pressure filled Yojimbo’s tent. Nobito sighed and held up both his hands, lowering his head. “Now, Jin, I mean you no harm. I do not wish to fight you or be in conflict with you.”

  Nobito stiffened and raised his guard. “Yeah, I’m not falling for that trick, old man. What are you doing here and who sent you? If you don’t answer me truthfully, I’ll turn you into the human equivalent of pork crackling.”

  Yojimbo snorted and nearly fell on the floor, laughing. When he settled, the foreigner wiped a stray tear from the corner of his left eye and snorted. “Ah, that one got me. That was a good one, boss.”

  Jin huffed. There were very few occasions, during his reign as Mage-Emperor, when he had ordered the most heinous and cruel of criminals to be executed by boiling in a vat of burning oil. The results were often disgusting. Not even his generals, save for the Hollowed Knight, were able to stomach such a sight. Human skin held a very remarkable similarity to pork skin when deep fried for a long time.

  The children of Moyatani were not nearly as torturous in t
heir delivery of executions. Even the most gruesome criminals were simply decapitated and their bodies burned and thrown into the sea. Jin shook his head and turned an eye to Yojimbo, “Yeah, but I meant it. Nobito No Yoritsumo, if that is your name at all, you will tell me what you’re doing here and who sent you. The penalty for declining my command is… well, a grizzly death. Don’t make me say it again, my former teacher.”

  He should’ve seen it sooner, but Jin had been too lax in thoroughly investigating his teachers. He was too focused on gaining power and becoming stronger that he had forgotten the security of his own home. Nobito No Yoritsumo could’ve been a spy. He was a master assassin, whose stealth far exceeded that of any shinobi. The old man could’ve easily slipped through the halls and corridors of Castle Murasaki, reading and recording Hamada’s personal documents and no one would’ve been the wiser.

  But, for now, Jin would give his old teacher the benefit of the doubt. After all, he hadn’t really bothered to check what any of his instructors and mentors were up to in their free time. He’d been too caught up in gathering power for himself to even care.

  Nobito sighed and dropped his blade. “I came here of my own accord, Jin. War is looming on the horizon, and I thought it best to seek out a lesser-known war-band and offer my services to them. If I teach this army the right skills, they will never be caught. They will never be ambushed, and they will never be trapped. Yojimbo’s little army will outlast the war and that’s exactly what I plan on doing—surviving.”

  “Offering my services to some other lord’s court is a foolish course of action,” Nobito finished. “The politics of this country is too volatile—nowhere is safe. So, I had two choices: join a bandit gang or join a roving war-band. As you can see, I believe I’ve made the right choice.”

  Jin chuckled. His magical energies flared outward, enveloping the spacious interior of Yojimbo’s tent. “Yeah, I don’t believe you.”