Free Samurai Son by M. H. Bonham Page A

shoulder.
    “You’re coming with me, Akira.   I want to make sure we get to the right place.”
    Akira could do nothing but nod.   He hoped he hadn’t made things any worse.

Chapter Seventeen
     
    They arrived in Yutsui within the hour.   Rokuro had brought six ashigaru along with Akira.   Akira thought this was overkill; after all, he had fought and beaten the renegade samurai and had taken his swords, which were now in Rokuro’s custody.   Akira carried his own samurai blades: the katana and wakizashi that his father, Takeshi, had commissioned for him.   They were fine blades, unlike the swords he had taken off the ronin.   They showed the exquisite hamon , the blade pattern of a skilled craftsman.
    Thinking about them, Akira wondered what sort of soul the swords carried within them.   It was said that the samurai swords carried the soul of the samurai.   He glanced down at the tsuba, admiring the detailed work of ravens and dragons on the hilt.   It didn’t seem that the sword had any soul within it; it was a fine sword, to be sure, but it seemed to him to be a lifeless piece of metal.
    Shouting then screaming broke him from his reverie.   They had just entered the outskirts of the small town.   The ashigaru leaped forward with spears ready.   Akira followed them, heedless of Rokuro’s calls.   They rounded the corner of one hut, and Akira saw a terrible sight.
    The ronin had somehow escaped his bindings and stood in the middle of the square.   Although he didn’t have samurai swords, he carried a big stick in one hand and a knife in the other.   A man with salt-and-pepper hair and skin tanned from the sun lay bleeding at his feet, his throat cut and a dark stain widening around him.   His clothes were typical of the peasants, but the clothing looked new and well cared for.   Maybe he was a farmer of some stature.   A basket of rice lay toppled next to him; many of the grains had fallen in the blood and were turning red.
    A woman was shrieking not far from the men.   Another woman was trying to hold her back so the ronin would not injure her.
    “Come with us,” Rokuro said to the ronin as the ashigaru fanned out.   “You cannot escape.”
    The ronin laughed and flailed his stick.   “I want food!   Bring me food!”
    “You’ve done enough harm today.”   Rokuro drew his katana.   “Put down your weapons, and we’ll give you food.”
    The ronin laughed.   “You will just kill me.   Instead, I shall take you all down with me.”
    Akira stared into the ronin’s eyes.   Surely the man was mad, yet Akira knew he spoke the truth.   Rokuro would not let him live.
    At that moment, the ronin recognized Akira.   “It’s you!   You led them here!”
    Akira said nothing but he could see something in the man’s eyes that suggested the ronin knew more.
    “You think I’m a monster?” the ronin babbled.   “You’re looking at a monster right there!   That boy—that boy deals with monsters.   He is a monster!”
    Suddenly an arrow shaft whizzed by and hit his chest.   The ronin gasped and collapsed.   Akira turned and saw an ashigaru with a bow.   Rokuro nodded at the soldier then walked to the ronin and bent down.
    “He’s from the Takemura clan,” Rokuro murmured.
    Akira looked down at the dead man.   “Why was he a ronin?”
    “I don’t know,” Rokuro said.   “The Takemura are samurai vassals of Nanashi.   Nanashi is still very much in power.”
    “He called me a monster.”   Akira swallowed hard.
    “He was a madman.”   Rokuro frowned.

Chapter Eighteen
     
    The ship anchored in a small harbor in the southeastern part of the island.   Tsuitori-jima sat northeast of Kyotori-jima, not far from the main archipelago.   Kasumi and Jiro had taken their leave as soon as the dockworkers moored the ship to the quay.   Now, standing on the pier, Kasumi gazed at the forests in longing.   As a Neko, she hated being cooped up aboard a ship.   She longed to