Free Heart of the Ronin by Travis Heermann Page A

stood out like ropes on its thick, gnarled limbs, barrel-like chest, and hunched shoulders. Its head had been carved from pure nightmare, glaring down at Ken’ishi with two beady yellow eyes set in deep, close-set sockets. Three yellowish-brown horns crowned its thick, low brow, each the length of a hand. A wild shock of coal-black hair was tied into an unruly caricature of a samurai’s topknot. Broad, brutish features and thick, flabby lips twisted into a snarl that bared cracked, yellowed tusks. In one of its three-fingered hands, it gripped a tremendous, studded iron club caked with bits of bloody flesh and hair. It stalked out of the bushes. Standing out straight before the beast, thrusting aside its meager linen loincloth, was its monstrous member, the size of Ken’ishi’s forearm.
    “Jizo preserve me!” Ken’ishi whispered.
    “Who the hell are you!” The creature’s voice sent shivers down Ken’ishi’s spine and raised the hairs on the nape of his neck, as if thunder itself were given voice.
    He glanced toward the sound of a gasp. The young woman cringed away from the creature, backing against the palanquin.
    The oni laughed again. “I’ve saved the sweetest for last, I see!” It leered down at her, its yellow eyes blazing with brutal lust.
    “No!” Ken’ishi shouted, stepping between them to face the oni, raising his sword into the high stance. “You won’t touch her! I’ll kill her before you touch her!”
    “It matters not to me whether she is alive or dead. Only that she is warm!” The oni laughed again. The oni reached down toward one of the dead samurai at its feet and wrenched an arm free of its socket, raised the dripping limb to his mouth, tore off a great chunk of raw flesh with its tusks and gulped it down. “Now, I must wash it down. Your blood will do, whelp!”
    Ken’ishi clenched his teeth against his rising gorge. “Back to hell with you, demon!” Then he glanced down at the young woman. “Run!” he hissed.
    She looked up at him.
    “Run!” he shouted at her.
    She scrambled to her feet and dashed up the road as quickly as her heavy garments would allow.
    The oni watched her go with a look of irritated disappointment. “Now I must catch her again! Damn you, whelp! I’ll peel your hide in strips and use your skull for a bowl!”
    The creature crossed the distance between them in four great strides and swung its iron club with startling speed. Ken’ishi darted aside, and the iron club splintered the carriage like kindling. A three-toed foot lashed out and plowed into Ken’ishi’s belly, sending him flying. Agony exploded in his guts, and stars flashed in his vision, but on the downward half of his arc, he spotted the upturned point of a broken spear in the path of his landing. He managed to twist in midair to extend his hands under him to avoid the spear point by a finger’s breadth. He hit the dirt and rolled to his feet, gasping for breath, his belly a blazing ball of hot pain.
    “Stupid monkey! I am the demon bandit Hakamadare! I am the Shogun of Robbers! When I was a man, I was the most powerful bandit chieftain in a hundred years! No one could stand against me then! How can you stand against me now that I am a demon?”
    Ken’ishi tried to compose himself enough to seek the emptiness. He tried to steady his breathing, but the sight of the creature whipped his heart into a thunderous gallop. The oni was upon him again in two strides, and the tetsubo whooshed downward like a falling boulder. Ken’ishi threw himself backward, and the club thumped into the earth with a spray of wet earth. The impact of the blow pulsed through his hands and feet. The size of the club and length of the creature’s arms gave it a great advantage of reach over Ken’ishi and his sword.
    The oni swung the club again, this time through the space Ken’ishi’s head had occupied the shaved moment before he dropped into a crouch. The oni spouted a torrent of vile curses as Ken’ishi dodged