Finally, finding a spot he thought to be safe, Hachiro hitched up his kimono and undid his loincloth. Then he gathered the skirts of the kimono around his waist and squatted down, the spear resting across his knees.
He had just started doing his business when he felt something tickle the back of his neck. He flicked his hand backward to chase away whatever insect was bothering him, but his hand banged against the flat of a sword blade. With a start, Hachiro tried to stand up and grab at his spear. Before he could do so, the spear was kicked out of his lap by a sandaled foot, and a hand on his shoulder forced him back into a squat. “You might as well finish what you started,” a husky voice said from behind him. “It will be a long wait for your Boss to come back.”
Later that day Kuemon wished he had met a demon. It would take a fight with a demon to drain the anger out of him. He did not catch up to the men who took the cash and other possessions from his camp. True, the bulk of his treasure was still hidden in his hut, but it galled him that the miserable worms, who knew nothing of banditry until Kuemon took them under his tutelage, had stolen from him.
His remaining men were dirty and exhausted from the fruitless chase and the search that morning, but they knew better than to complain during the long walk back to the camp. Every scowl, every snort, every curse he made let the men know that this was not the afternoon to complain about anything to the Boss.
The afternoon was almost ended and the red sun was directly in his eyes when Kuemon returned to the camp. Because of the glare of the sun, he couldn’t immediately see who was in the camp as he approached it.
There was a figure standing in the sun with a drawn sword. At first Kuemon thought it was the boy he had set to guard the camp, but as he grew closer he realized that the figure before him was too husky and mature to be the kid. His steps slowed, then he stopped.
His weary men, seeing Kuemon stop, also came to a halt. “Why are we stopping?” one of the men dared to ask.
“Fool! Take out your weapon!” Kuemon matched his order with his own actions, drawing his sword from his sash. Three other swords and a spear flashed in the red sunset as the other bandits brought their weapons to the ready.
The five men advanced cautiously. Kaze noted that they spread out without being told to, so that they would flank him on the right and left. He grudgingly acknowledged that Boss Kuemon had trained his men properly. Kaze was acutely alert to a sudden rush by any or all of the men, but for now he was content to let them come closer, as long as none of them threatened to get behind him.
“Be careful, Boss! He’s the samurai I told you about from the road to Higashi.” The boy, Hachiro, was tied up securely and sitting where he could view events. Kaze hadn’t gagged him because he wanted him to warn the bandits about who he was. He noted a slight hesitation in the steps of three of the men when Hachiro told them who he was. Good. That’s exactly what he wanted: a slight hesitation when the moment of truth came.
Kaze shifted the position of his sword, bringing it to the ready position, with both hands on the handle. This action most definitely caused three of the men to lag slightly behind Kuemon. One of the laggards was to the left of Kuemon, the other two were on the other wing. Kaze waited until the stragglers were a full step behind the other men, then he attacked.
The bandits were surprised by the explosive fury of Kaze’s attack. His initial charge sliced the lead bandit across the shoulder and neck because he was too slow in getting his guard up, but instead of jousting with Kuemon, Kaze used the body of the cut bandit as a shield and immediately turned his attention to the two laggards on his left.
One bandit parried his blow, and the distinctive sound of two Japanese swords crossing clanged out in the camp. Instead of striking another blow at this bandit, Kaze took an arcing slice at the second one, the one with the spear, catching him off guard and cutting him through the side.
Kuemon had now stepped around the body of the dying lead bandit, but Kaze spun around and rushed at the bandit who had originally been behind Kuemon. This bandit blocked the first of Kaze’s blows, but he wasn’t able to block the second, and Kaze’s cut caught him across the shoulder and chest. Kaze had a flash of concern as his sword momentarily embedded itself in the shoulder bone of his latest victim, but he was able to wrench it free before Kuemon and the remaining bandit surrounded him.
Kaze nimbly stepped sideways out of the trap set by the two bandits. When he made a half turn, the two men were now standing to the left and right of him, instead of in front and behind. The two bandits hesitated. Kaze, who was now puffing from his expenditure of energy, welcomed the respite.
Kuemon glared at Kaze with a look of pure malevolence. He had wished for a demon to fight, and now he found one in human form. Kaze expected Kuemon to say something to him. Instead, he said to the other bandit, “If we attack together, we’ll kill him. He can’t handle both of us at the same time.”
Kuemon was wrong.
As the two bandits lunged forward, Kaze quickly stepped backward. The spot where the bandits were converging was now empty, and they both had to alter their path to attack Kaze. Instead of attacking him from each side, they were now both in front of him.
Kaze lifted his sword to protect his head and parried the blows of both men, dropping to one knee under the combined force. Kuemon slipped his blade off Kaze’s sword and drew it back to take a cut at him. As he did, Kaze lunged forward, releasing the pressure on his blade and bringing it forward. The bandit’s blade, now released from Kaze’s sword, sliced through empty air as Kaze’s cut into the bandit’s belly. Hot blood and liquefied stomach contents sprayed out on Kaze as the bandit gave a great groan.
Kaze fell to the earth and rolled away from the dying bandit. With a shout of triumph, Kuemon rushed up to Kaze and chopped down at him. Kaze finished his roll just in time to catch Kuemon’s sword with his blade. Kaze kicked his foot out and caught Kuemon on the kneecap, sending him sprawling to the earth. Kaze lunged forward and stabbed Kuemon in the throat, his blade penetrating the larynx and driving deep into the ground. Kuemon clawed at the blade, cutting his hands and making a dreadful, gurgling sound as his blood spurted into the air from a cut artery. He was pinned to the ground by the sword, but he was still struggling to get up so he could deliver an equally mortal blow to Kaze.
Kaze kept his hand on the hilt of his sword, driving it forward so Kuemon could not get up. Kuemon’s exertions against the force of the blade grew rapidly weaker, until finally the bandit chief lay still.
Kaze was gasping for breath, but every time he drew in a ragged mouthful of air, it held the awful stench of blood and bile. It gagged him, not only with its physical effects, but with its association with the death and decay abhorrent to Shinto. It was a paradox that puzzled him. As a warrior, he was trained to kill or be killed, and he approached each battle with a coldness that sometimes frightened him. Yet, when it was over, he often had regrets at the consequences of his skill.
During the moments of the fight, nothing else existed for Kaze. He felt more alive than at any other time in his life, including when lovemaking. Every pebble under his foot was distinct and noticeable. Every slight glance by an opponent was memorized. Hard breathing by an adversary sounded like a trumpet. It meant his prey was getting tired and would soon make mistakes or drop his guard. Kaze’s mind was wonderfully lucid, racing ahead two, three, or four moves. And the most important thing in the world was winning. It was the only goal, the only existence he acknowledged in a fight.