“Where did the demon go?”
“No one knows for sure. Did you happen to see it on the road?”
“No. I just came from Uzen prefecture. I’m on my way to Rikuzen prefecture, but last night I stayed in Suzaka village.”
“Oh, then you took the wrong road at the crossroads.”
“What do you mean?”
“You remember the crossroads where four roads meet?”
“Yes, I remember it very well.”
“One of the roads is from Uzen.”
“That’s the road I came on.”
“Yes. One of the roads goes deeper into the mountains, toward Mount Fukuto. Another road goes to Suzaka village, and the fourth comes here, Higashi village.”
“So you don’t have to go through Suzaka to get to here?”
“No. That’s where the District Lord has his manor, but most people don’t go through Suzaka. That’s why it doesn’t even have a teahouse. Most people go directly from the crossroads to here.”
“So the roads form a kind of triangle, connecting the crossroads, Suzaka village and Higashi village?”
“Yes.”
“And up ahead is a branch in the road where I can continue toward Rikuzen or go back to the crossroads?”
“That’s right.”
“Is that so …” This time Kaze’s intonation conveyed that he was genuinely interested in what the girl was telling him. “I understand that the Lord of this District has only governed it for two years,” he continued.
“Yes. That’s Lord Manase. He got the District as a reward for killing the famous general Iwaki Sadataka at the battle of Sekigahara. He took the general’s head to Tokugawa Ieyasu himself and presented it and got this District as his reward.”
“The District doesn’t seem very peaceful.”
“It’s terrible! Ever since Lord Manase took over things have gone from bad to worse. The teahouse business gets less each year because people are afraid to travel through here. No one is safe. Everyone is suffering!”
“Is that so?” Kaze said. The words were the same as before, but this time the tone conveyed sympathy.
The girl then leaned forward, almost whispering. “Tonight I’ll come visit you in your bed. We’ll have to be silent, so the master won’t know, because I’ll do it for free. I wouldn’t charge you, samurai-sama.”
Kaze studied the stumpy body and rough, red face of the serving girl and swallowed what he was going to say. Instead, in a kind tone, he said, “I won’t be staying the night. I want to return to Suzaka village.”
“But it’s late,” the serving girl protested. “You’ll have to travel in the dark! The roads are full of bandits, and the demon might still be about.”
“Yes, I know.”
When Kaze finally got back to Suzaka, it had been dark for several hours. As he approached Jiro’s hut, he could see the glow of the fire peeking through some gaps in the door. Kaze rapped on the hut’s sliding wooden door and said, “Oi! Jiro! Wake up! It’s the samurai. I’ve returned and want to spend the night.”
Kaze heard movement in the hut. Then he heard the stick that prevented the farmhouse door from sliding open being removed. The door was shoved ajar slightly.
“Jiro?” Kaze said. There was no response. He waited for a few minutes, but there was no more sound from inside the farmhouse. Silently, Kaze loosened his sword and slid it out of its scabbard. With his free hand he slid the door of the farmhouse fully open.
Inside, he could see the glow of the charcoal fire in the firepit and smell the bubbling porridge in the pot. Otherwise, he could detect nothing in the darkened farmhouse.
Cautiously, Kaze stepped into the hut, saying, “Jiro?”
A net dropped down on his head, trapping his sword arm under its heavy skein. Kaze brought his sword up and had sliced through two ropes of the net when the first blow hit. It was heavy, like a club. It staggered Kaze and forced him to one knee. He was attempting to stand when the second blow hit. Kaze twisted, but the enfolding shroud of the net prevented him from dodging the heavy fall of cudgels. One blow hit him on the side of his head, and he saw a red flash. Before he could absorb this, additional blows pummeled his head, forcing him into the black sleep of unconsciousness.
CHAPTER 7
My footprints on a
Black sand beach. A rising tide
Erases the past.
Kaze woke to the sounds of a man groaning in pain. It took him a few befuddled moments to realize that the sounds were coming from him. He stopped the groans and sucked in a breath of air to clear his head.
He was sitting hunched up in a wooden cage barely large enough to hold him. He felt his face with his fingers, wincing at especially tender spots. Good. His neck, cheek, shoulders, and face were bruised but apparently not broken.
He looked around and could see that the cage was in some kind of small courtyard. Next to him was another, similar cage. Inside the cage was Jiro, his knees drawn up and his head hanging down.
“Oi! You!” Kaze said to get his attention. Jiro looked up. His expression was one of despair and infinite sorrow. Instead of being moved to compassion, Kaze grew angry. Jiro had already given up. “Why are we here?” Kaze demanded.
Jiro made no reply. He just hung his head down again.
Kaze snorted in disgust and looked closely at his cage. It was old but of surprisingly good construction. He lifted his feet and pushed against the door with all his strength. Nothing. He looked around the cage once more to make sure there wasn’t a weak spot but satisfied himself that trying to break out of the cage was a fruitless effort. He would have to wait until they took him out of the cage for some reason. That might not be for days, so he got himself as comfortable as possible and tried to relax, husbanding his strength.
He closed his eyes. He couldn’t help but think of what his Sensei, his teacher, would have said about his current predicament.
“Baka! Fool! You knew there was something suspicious and you still went stumbling in like some rank amateur! It’s disgusting.”
“Yes, Sensei. But the net was unexpected. It …”
Of course, the Sensei would then skewer him with a look of contempt. In the old days, Kaze would drop to his knees and bow with his head touching the ground.
“You know the lessons,” the Sensei would say. “What lesson is appropriate for this?”
“Expect the unexpected.”
“Of course. Careless!” Sensei had a way of saying “careless” that made it sound worse than the foulest oath Kaze had ever heard a drunken castle guard utter. Kaze would never have a response after Sensei said this word. He could only wait in silence to see if he would be forgiven. Somehow, he always was.
“I don’t know why I continue to waste my time with someone so stupid,” the Sensei would eventually say. Then he would sit Kaze down and carefully explain to him how he could avoid the situation in the future. Besides the tactical advice on how to handle the situation at the hut, the Sensei would have undoubtedly also told him that he could stay out of this kind of trouble by simply minding his own business and staying focused on what he was supposed to do. It never prospered a man to pursue problems that were not his own.
Kaze wished his Sensei were still alive because he often needed advice and now had no resources to get it. It would be embarrassing to have to confess to him his current situation, but he would gladly trade that embarrassment just to hear his Sensei scold him once again.
Keeping his eyes closed, Kaze listened intently for the sound of anyone approaching, but he let his mind drift to when he first met his Sensei.
He was eight. A group of boys his age were trudging up a narrow mountain path. The boys were giddy with thin mountain air tinged with the smell of adventure and freedom. It was early winter and a light dusting of snow covered the ground, even though it was not exceptionally cold. Gaunt black branches hung over the twisting path as the boys engaged in a steady chatter composed of youthful spirits and high expectations.