The officer held up his hand. The column shuffled to a halt. "Now," Izuru said almost audibly, and gestured. Rushan saw the signal and dashed for the tail of the column twenty metres away, his long sword poised in a two-handed grip.
He burst through the first two men sending them sprawling before they or any of the soldiers realized they were being attacked, and hacked at Yoshi who stared at him blankly for a split second.
Only Yoshi's honed instinct made him lurch towards the death blow, diverting it into a stupefied soldier beside him who screamed and went down.
Shrieking "sonno-joi" in the sudden shouting melee around him, Rushan jerked the blade out as soldiers fought for space, shoving each other out of the way, other guards rushing from the gateway, bystanders everywhere gaping and paralyzed, Wataki, the shishi informer, as surprised as any of the soldiers, and terrified he would become involved or betrayed by this shishi he recognized who had appeared out of nowhere.
Wataki saw Rushan strike again and held his breath. But Yoshi had recovered his balance though had no time yet to draw his sword so he used the haft of his spear against the blow. Rushan's sword sliced through it easily but the blade twisted and slowed slightly, giving Yoshi just enough time to lunge and grab the sword hilt left-handed.
At once Rushan's right hand flashed to his short sword, ripped it out and stabbed for the belly, a classic gambit in hand-to-hand fighting. Again Yoshi was prepared. He had let the spear fall and jammed his right forearm against Rushan's wrist to deflect the blade into his cloak to entangle it. Instantly Rushan let go and his hand, now a murderous weapon with fingers like rock-hard talons, and nails like claws, stabbed for Yoshi's eyes. The nails missed the eyes but sank in below them.
Yoshi gasped. A lesser trained man would have released his grip on his assailant's long sword hilt and would have died. Blindly he hung on, now with two hands, to the man who flayed impotently, out of control now. This gave a soldier behind Rushan the opening to grab him around the throat, and Wataki, knowing the fight was lost and petrified the shishi would be captured alive, thankfully drove his short sword into Rushan's lower back. The strength of the blow thrust the blade right through him. Rushan cried out. Blood seeped from his mouth, but he fought on though blind with death that soared upwards and outwards and ended. Barely a minute had passed since the first attack.
Though his own glands generated panic, Yoshi felt the life go out of the man. And the sudden weight of the body against him. But he did not let go until he was completely sure the man was truly dead. Even then he allowed other hands to pull the corpse away and let it fall.
Blood covered him. He discovered quickly that it was not his. His good fortune did not dissipate his fury at the men nearby who had failed to be alert, failed to move into a protective screen, leaving him to do the fighting. He cursed them, ordering the whole troop inside, on their knees, their swords broken, except the two who had helped him. Then, panting, he looked around. The busy street was almost empty.
When the shouting, milling skirmish surrounding the lone attacker was seen to be what it was, and in seconds Yoshi's hat torn off and he was recognized, a hum of astonishment had gone through the common folk. At once, two or three sidled away, heads averted. Others followed.
The cautious dribble became a floodtide, no one wanting to be held as a witness or even accused of being an accomplice.
Izuru was one of the first to leave when he saw there was no reasonable expectation a second attack would succeed. Rushan mishandled the attack, he thought, walking down the predetermined side street, well shielded by departing crowds. The fool should have hacked the head off one of the first two as a diversion, then on the recovery used the same fluid, brutal force to swing back on the prime target, waist-high. No likelihood of Yoshi escaping that blow. None. Katsumata would be furious, he demonstrated it enough times, told us enough times. A unique opportunity wasted! And as for allowing Yoshi to catch his hilt and parry the belly thrust...
Rushan deserved to be captured alive and used for sword practice! Wait, perhaps it was better this way. If Rushan was so inept in his supreme duel, he probably would have broken and given away our safe houses, the ones he knew about. You can't trust Tosa people, shishi or not!
But why was Toranaga Yoshi taking such a risk?
There were shouts behind him. Soldiers were chasing the last of the crowds to catch some as witnesses. No chance that he would be caught, no need to hurry.
Rain began again. The wind picked up. He pulled his cloak around him, glad for it and his hat. Down another puddled alley, into another, across a bridge, the wooden slats slippery.
Soon he was safe in a maze of slippery little streets that led to a back entrance in the wall of a great dwelling. The guard recognized him, let him pass, waving him toward the secret shishi safe house lost in the vast gardens. The man's uniform carried the insignia of Lord Chancellor Wakura.
In the street of the Toranaga Headquarters the stall keeper was being hustled to the guard house, loudly protesting that he knew nothing, was nothing and begged to be allowed to go--he had dared not vanish with the others as he was too well known there. A few stragglers who had been caught were shoved after him. The awning of the stall flapped miserably in the wind and rain.
Koiko was putting the final touches to her makeup helped by a hand mirror of polished steel. Her fingers shook slightly. Again she made a conscious effort to empty her mind and compartmentalize her fears, for Yoshi and because of him, for herself and because of herself. The other two women, Teko, her maiko--apprentice--and Sumomo watched intently. The room was small and functional, like the rest of the suite adjoining Yoshi's quarters, sufficient for her when she slept alone, and one maid. Other quarters, for her attendants, were further away.
As she finished she stared at her reflection.
She could detect no worry lines and when she tried a smile the skin of her face crinkled only in the correct places, her eyes were white where they should be white, dark where they should be dark and showed none of the depth of her concern. This pleased her. Then she caught a glimpse of Sumomo. Not aware she was observed, Sumomo's face was momentarily open.
Koiko's stomach twisted, seeing so many conflicts there.
Training training training, she thought, what would we do without it, and turned to face them. Teko, little more than a child, took the mirror without being asked, deftly touched a vagrant lock into place with a tiny hand.
"It's beautiful, Lady Koiko,"
Sumomo said, bewitched. This was the first time she had been allowed into Koiko's private quarters.
The secrets of the beauty process had been a revelation, beyond her whole experience.
"Yes, it is," Koiko said, thinking she meant the mirror, the perfection of its surface making it almost priceless. "And it is a kind mirror too. Few are kind, Sumomo-- vital in this life for a woman to have a kind mirror to look into."
"Oh, I meant the whole picture you make, not that," Sumomo said, embarrassed. "From your kimono to your hairstyle, your choice of colors and how you make up your lips and eyebrows, everything. Thank you for allowing me to witness it."
Koiko laughed. "I hope that with, or without, the effect is not too different!"
"Oh, you are the most beautiful person I have ever seen," Sumomo burst out. Compared to Koiko she felt like a country person, unsophisticated, inept, bovine, all fingers and elbows and big feet, for the first time in her life conscious of a lack of femininity. What can my beloved Hiraga see in me, she asked herself dismayed. I'm nothing, unattractive, nothing, not even a Choshu like him. I bring him no face, no lands, no prestige and no money, I'm sure in truth his parents disapprove of me. "You are the, the most beautiful I'm ever likely to see!" she said and she was thinking, Are all Ladies of the Floating World like you? Even the maiko will be stunning when she is grown though not like her Mistress! No wonder men marry women like me just to control their houses and bear their children, because it is so easy for them to worship elsewhere, to enjoy beauty elsewhere and oh so much more.