Path of Honour, part 4

They left the next morning, Kameza having obtained some more food and water. They had no firm plan: Jikuna's men were far too strong for them to take on in a straight fight, so Kuto had decided that he would sneak into their camp and take his swords back. Not the bravest idea, perhaps, but even Kitsu Jago had approved of it.

"The best samurai is the one who knows when not to fight," the shugenja had said. Kuto took that as approval for the idea. Of course, they would still have to find the camp and approach it without being seen.

Thankfully, they were easily able to find the bandits' trail from where they had encountered them some days before. They moved relatively quickly over the open ground, the trail of their quarry easily visible. It crossed the border into Crane lands, and the pair of them had the additional worry of avoiding border patrols. There was plenty of cover along the way, however, making it easy for the pair of them to remain unnoticed. It was towards the end of the third day of tracking when Kameza suddenly froze and put her finger to her lips. Kuto did so, and seconds later saw what had alarmed her. Ahead, at the edge of a clump of trees, a lone man was standing looking out over the broken ground with the air of a sentry. Thankfully, he hadn't seen them, and they ducked behind a ridge.

"Think this is it?" Kameza asked calmly.

"Could be. Do we want to get closer?"

"I say we watch this guy and wait till dark. Would they have fires?"

He gave her a funny look. "How else would they cook their rice?"

"I don't know. I just thought they might be a little more subtle."

Kuto shrugged. "Even bandits have to eat. This copse provides cover though; we shouldn't see the glow of the fire. The trees help break up the smoke, and we're far enough from the villages that nobody would see the smoke in the dark." He repeated the words almost by rote, instructions burned deep into his memory by Nukinu and the others.

"Would we see it from here?"

"Probably, since we know what we're looking for."

"Then I guess we just wait for nightfall."

Sure enough, after sunset a thin column of smoke could be seen rising over the trees. Kameza and Kuto rose from their resting place behind the ridge and surveyed the situation. The sentry was gone, as far as they could tell, and at the edge of their hearing the sounds of a group of people talking drifted through the air.

"We'll wait till they're asleep before approaching," Kuto decided. "There's no need for you to come in with me."

"What if someone sees or hears you?"

"Then I run, and hope. And you escape."

"That doesn't sound like a very good plan." Kameza sounded doubtful. "Can you think of another option?"

"Return here with a squad of samurai at our backs?"

"Jago-sama didn't offer them, and neither of us can order samurai around."

In truth he hadn't even thought of getting help from the authorities. Old habits died hard.

"Can't we bargain with him or something?"

Kuto considered what he knew about bandits, and what he'd heard about Jikuna. "We could try and buy them off him. But he'd probably just rob us. Or we could try and ambush him, but he won't be far from his friends. If there's just the two of us, we don't have many options."

"I could go in. I'm probably quieter than you are."

"It's my risk to take. I couldn't ask you to do it for me." Privately, he wished he could. But what would Jago say? What would bushido have to say about it? No, this was his fight, his challenge.

She nodded in understanding. "I'll wait here for you. If I hear any trouble, I'll go for help."

They waited a few more hours, fighting sleep. At about midnight Kuto made his move, creeping across the fifty yards to the clump of trees. They could see no sentry: clearly Jikuna and his men weren't afraid of discovery or attack by night. The tents and sleeping mats started a few dozen feet into the thicket: after looking back at Kameza waiting by their hiding place Kuto headed for the biggest tent. He moved slowly and surely, as if ambushing someone, making sure not to step on any of the sticks and twigs that littered the ground. The cold night air made the scene perfectly still and quiet: even the noise of his breathing seemed to echo far too loudly for his liking. Reaching the tent, he paused and listened. The only sound from within was the heavy breathing of a sleeping man. Taking a deep breath, he carefully moved the tent flap aside and looked in.

Jikuna was lying asleep on the far side of the tent, his swords sitting on a stool beside the tent pole. He wondered if he should just kill the man now, with a single blow to the throat. But a man like Jikuna would not die quietly, and his thrashing would doubtless wake the others. No, he was here for his swords. He tiptoed into the tent and began to gently lift them off the stool. Quietly, he backed towards the door, swords under one arm. Carefully, he left and replaced the tent flap. Jikuna's breathing didn't change. Placing the swords in his obi, he began the short journey back to the edge of the camp, desperately hoping that none of the sleeping bandits would choose this moment to wake up. Step by silent step the journey seemed to take forever, but at last he reached the edge of the trees and started back towards their hiding place.

As he walked around the ridge that they'd used for cover, he froze. Kameza was standing with her back to the ridge, the tip of a katana under her neck. Holding the sword was a woman, ten years or so older than Kuto and with the scars to match.

"So, the thief returns. Drop your weapons and stand next to the girl." The woman's voice was harsh and determined.

Fighting the rising panic and desperately trying to think of something to do Kuto let his hand fall on the handle of his father's katana, and drew it slowly. "You one of Jikuna's?"

She glared at him. "No, I'm a freelance. What do you think?" As she turned her attention to him Kameza dived sideways; rolling away from the blade while the woman's attention was on Kuto. He leapt forward to strike, but the woman dodged backwards and his strike fell short. She lashed out with her blade, but caught only empty air as he stepped sideways in the nick of time. She shouted the alarm, before Kameza jumped at her from behind and knocked her winded to the floor. Kuto was there almost immediately, but Kameza was still on top of their opponent and he couldn't strike. As the peasant girl tried to roll to one side, a dagger appeared in the woman's hand, and as Kuto's sword came down she plunged it into Kameza's back, prompting a scream from the girl. Their attacker's head flew from her shoulders as Kameza's scream quietened to a low moaning.

Shouts began to rise from the camp, and the sounds of people moving. Kuto tried to help Kameza up, but she stared up at him blankly, seemingly unaware of him. Panic welled up in him as he heard the shouts getting closer, and he made a decision. Grabbing his bag and returning his sword to its saya he dashed away from the approaching bandits, his desire to survive overruling his desire to stay and protect Kameza. When he finally stopped fifteen minutes later, he threw himself to the ground and wept. This wasn't how honourable samurai behaved. A true samurai would have faced those men, and protected his friend.

But she was only a peasant, a treacherous corner of his mind replied. And samurai don't care about peasants. You did just fine.

He pulled out the scroll Jago had given him after their first meeting. Honesty, compassion, courage... and the rest. Breaking into a bandit camp and stealing his father's swords, then abandoning a wounded friend... how could these acts possibly confirm to the laws of bushido?

Courage to leave a dying friend that they may later be avenged rather than throwing your life away, and to reclaim your father's swords. Honesty to admit to them that you could not save them, rather than have them cling to false hope for the last minutes of their life. Compassion to spare them the sight of seeing you fall defending them. Clearly bushido did not tell you how to act in every situation, then. What was the point in studying a code that could be read either way?

In despair, he sat and wondered for the first time if he had been right to try and become a samurai.

He returned a few hours after the fight, sneaking quietly up to the scene an hour or two before dawn. Amidst feelings of guilt, sadness and anger he felt that he had to see if somehow, Kameza had managed to get away. What he found was a massive surprise - there was no sign of Kameza's body but there were several dead bandits, their faces locked in death masks of agony. The camp was deserted: Jikuna and the rest had left in a hurry, by the look of things. It made no sense to him - clearly some powerful kami or something had taken pity on Kameza, and saved him where he could not. Where he had not even tried. No, that was stupid. He would never have been able to beat these men. Sadness gave way to hope: she could still be alive, if whatever saved her hadn't taken her somewhere else. He was a bit hazy on the notion of where powerful spirits lived, but maybe she had been taken there. Jigoku or whatever it was called.

Well, he had his swords now. He would tell Jago-sama about what had happened, and maybe the old shugenja would be able to work it out. Shugenja knew all about spirits and stuff. He headed for the nearest village, and walked through it before finding somewhere unobtrusive to sleep. This was another precaution bored into him by years of living as a bandit: passing through a village made your trail much harder to follow. Finding a patch of bushes he sank to the ground, exhausted by lack of sleep and the night's exertions, one corner of his mind hoping that Kameza was okay.

He woke shortly after noon, as far as he could tell. The night's activities all rushed into his mind, and he looked around hurriedly. His swords were still there, and Kameza was still gone. Searching his bag he realised that he didn't have any water. Of course, he'd been drinking from his flask just before entering Jikuna's camp, and hadn't had time to pack when he'd left. He'd have to go to the village and pull some from their well: he had no idea where to find a stream around here. Packing his old swords in the bag and his father's blades in his obi he realised how hungry he was. Eating a ration to quell his growing hunger only made him more thirsty, and he set off towards the village he'd walked through the previous evening.

The village was not large, a cluster of buildings along one road with a central square that contained the inn, traders' stalls and the well. As he approached the central well, he saw something that turned his spine to ice. Jikuna. Alone, it seemed, though who was to say how many of Jikuna's gang were nearby out of sight. He slowly began to back off when the big man looked up, and caught a glimpse of the swords Kuto was wearing. Slowly, he started to walk towards Kuto, who was too afraid to even move. He noticed that Jikuna hadn't managed to find replacement swords, but was carrying a pair of kama tucked into his obi. He also noticed that Jikuna was approaching him slowly, cautiously, and with a hint of something that looked like fear in his eyes. Fear? Of him?

"So, thief, where's your little friend? The one who slaughtered several of my best companions?" Jikuna's voice was hard and cold, the voice of a man determined not to show his opponent that he's afraid.

Kuto realised that that uncertainty was about the only chance he had. "My companion will be here in a second. If you leave now, you might get out before she arrives." It didn't sound convincing, even to him.

"Left you, has she? Then maybe I can reclaim what is mine, and return to the others with the HEAD of one of the fools who crossed me. Would be great for morale, that."

Kuto drew his katana, backing off slightly. The morning light glinted off the blade as he did so, and villagers stepped back to give the pair a wide berth. "These swords belonged to my father, and were never yours!" Jikuna paused in his advance. "Really, boy? Well, isn't that a surprise. But now I recognise you. You're that boy who claimed to be one of Nukinu's bunch. Then I'm sure you understand the trade, boy. Finders keepers. Now give me those swords, and if you're lucky I will kill you QUICKLY!" Jikuna drew the kama and stepped forwards deliberately.

Fighting his fear, Kuto called on every ounce of determination he could muster. "I am born of the Lion!" he shouted. "Come and get me!"

Jikuna needed no second invitation, leaping towards him with both kama swinging. Kuto brought the katana around in a rising arc, deflecting one of the kama as he dodged the second. The big man growled and tried again, forcing Kuto to give ground. But Jikuna's strikes seemed clumsy, as if he wasn't used to using these weapons. Kuto, on the other hand, had hardly used anything other than a sword. Around them peasants scattered out of the way as Kuto retreated, blocking some wild strikes and dodging others sometimes by the slightest whisker. One blow caught his left arm, opening the flesh below the shoulder as he dodged a fraction of a second too slowly. Jikuna only needed to be lucky once. He needed to be lucky every time. He was going to lose: his opponent's power and ferocity hardly left him time to defend, let alone attack.

He realised that he was getting close to a wall, and that if he got trapped there was no way his long blade would be able to stop Jikuna's frenzied attacks. Desperately parrying another strike, he hoped for a miracle. It came, in the form of Jikuna overreaching on one swing. Kuto's parry sliced through the kama's handle, sending it flying over his shoulder and past his left ear. Back almost at the wall, Kuto swung into the attack. He slashed sideways, using the move to get his back away from the wall. He was fighting on instinct now, his mind to paralysed with fear to take an active part. Fighting with the gang had never been like this: they never attacked more than one or two men even with the whole group. He had nobody to distract Jikuna's attention, nobody to slash at his opponent's undefended back. He was on his own.

It was Jikuna's turn to do most of the parrying, the superior reach of Kuto's blade leaving him with few chances to attack. Once a solid block nearly tore the sword from the boy's hands, but Kuto was able to jump back to avoid the reverse swing that threatened to disembowel him without losing his grip on his weapon. But despite his obvious lack of familiarity with the weapon, the bandit leader's greater experience was showing as he blocked and avoided each of Kuto's strikes with seeming ease. Kuto felt his body begin to tire as Jikuna began to bait him.

"I see Nukinu never taught you to use two swords, boy. You're a shadow of my shadow, nothing more."

He didn't reply, allowing the rising anger to strengthen his muscles as his stamina began to fail. Another swing, another block. And an idea, as Jikuna's taunts brought Kuto's mind to bear on the situation.

"Give up, boy. You're no match for me, even with a peasant weapon, and you know it." Kuto moved his blade wide to his right, and began to swing left. As he did so he dropped his right hand to his wakazashi, leaving his weakened left arm to guide the blade alone. Jikuna's parry jolted his katana from his hands, but his wakazashi was already free, already hurled towards the big man's stomach. Kuto scrambled to pick up his sword as Jikuna doubled over in pain, free hand clutching the deep gash across his stomach. "You will PAY for that!"

Jikuna would be less mobile now, Kuto told himself. He'd seen injured men fight, but never for very long. Summoning the last of his strength, he circled around Jikuna and struck at his off side. Jikuna brought his weapon round in the nick of time, but the parry was far less assured than previously. Suddenly, Kuto realised that he had a real chance of winning. Circling the big man again, he darted in for another strike, twisting the blade as his did so. Jikuna's parry missed, and Kuto's father's sword found the bandit leader's off arm. Jikuna growled as it fell limp, opening the wound in his stomach once more, and shuddered with pain. In that moment, Kuto swung.

The Akodo katana bit deep into Jikuna's torso, smashing the man's right arm and ribcage. As the defeated bandit leader fell to the ground, Kuto buried his sword in the man's skull. Looking around at the villagers, nobody seemed to be stepping forward to avenge a fallen leader. Retrieving his wakazashi and returning both swords to their saya, Kuto clutched at the wound on his left arm and stumbled over to the well. Villagers got out of his way, nobody challenging his right to water. The bucket was full, and he plunged his flask in and took a deep drink before rapidly rinsing some of the blood from his arm. Refilling his flask, he then made himself scarce before any of Jikuna's gang came to find out what had happened to their leader.

"So, Akodo Kuto, you have been assigned to join my retainers." Kitsu Jago's eyes twinkled as he spoke to the newest member of the Akodo family. The ceremony had been short, and attended only by Kitsu Jago, Akodo Manesu and Kuto himself. After swearing fealty to Manesu and the Akodo, the daimyo had sent him off with Jago. And already the Kitsu was giving him a task. "I want you to see your background as a strength, Kuto-san, rather than a weakness. Your links with your adoptive father's associates can be put to good use, you know." Kuto looked up sharply. He had been hoping that the Kitsu would have forgotten about Nukinu and the others.

"Kitsu-sama? What do you mean?"

"I may have an assignment that they could help me with. They would, of course, receive payment. The task is simple: to go and practise their trade on the other side of the mountains, in Scorpion lands." He paused for effect. "I am sure that I can make it worth their while. Your task will be to persuade your ex-father to agree. I'm sure you can do that, hmm?" Kuto's heart swelled with pride and relief. Not only would he be able to serve the Lion as nobody else would, he could help Nukinu and the others at the same time. Suddenly, this samurai business was looking a lot better. There was still no sign of Kameza, however. Jago had assured him that she was fine, that she had returned before him and had headed off to recover at a nearby monastery. Apparently she hadn't told anybody precisely what had happened, but Jago had agreed with Kuto's assessment. Clearly some divine force had been involved.

As he left Manesu's estate on his first mission as a Lion samurai, Kuto was content. Life seemed to be going just fine.

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