Free Tale of the Warrior Geisha by Margaret Dilloway Page B

She had never felt more helpless. “Don’t give up.”
    â€œTomoe,” Kaneto said, his voice so low she could barely hear it. “Take care of Yoshinaka. Of all of them. They are lost without you.”
    â€œOf course.” Tomoe pressed down harder. “But you will be fine. You will die an old man, my son on your knee.” Perhaps Chizuru knew how to stitch up a wound this vicious. Tomoe fought off her rising panic. “Help!” she screamed. “Mother, where are you?”
    â€œTomoe!” Chizuru called, making her way between the fighters, led by Wada. Chizuru’s face was black with soot. She stumbled to the ground and covered Kaneto’s wounds with a folded cloth. “Move, Tomoe. Let me try.”
    Tomoe moved to the side and stepped away. She could not imagine this world without her father. Not yet. She breathed in and out until she stopped shaking. She stood and looked around.
    Most of the battle was over, but the pavilion roof still flamed. Buckets of water sizzled uselessly against it. This place was lost.
    Yoshinaka stood at Tomoe’s side. His fine clothes were covered in blood and bits of flesh, but he looked more exhilarated than tired. He put his arm around Tomoe. “Nine Taira,” Yoshinaka said with disgust. “Idiots. Why would they send such an unlucky number?” Nine, or
ku
, also meant pain and suffering. “If they think this will stop me, they are fools.”
    A woman wailed long and loud. Tomoe jumped, at first not knowing from where the sound originated.
“Ie, ie, ie,”
Chizuru howled out the two syllables over and over. “No.” Her breath gone, Chizuru put her head down and cried quietly.
    Tomoe moved back toward her parents. Her father’s blue face had open, glassy eyes, like a caught fish. Dark blood pooled around him, already cooled. “Father?”
    The fire snapped behind her.
    This isn’t real,
she thought.
It cannot be.
But of course it was.
    Yoshinaka put his hand on her shoulder. He squeezed. She spun and embraced him, and he held her close. His smell made her stomach turn, but that was only the remnants of battle. Underneath, she caught the same scent she’d inhaled in the cherry orchard. Earth and sweetness. Without him, she would have collapsed.
    â€œWe will make him proud, Tomoe,” Yoshinaka whispered.
    She put her cheek against his neck, their skin wet with tears and blood.
Yes,
she said in her head.
We will make him proud.
    Yoshinaka released her, then picked up her father and carried him away.

NINE
    Tomoe Gozen
    I WAMURA T OWN
    S HINANO P ROVINCE
    H ONSHU , J APAN
    Summer 1171
    Y oshinaka saddled his horse, Demon, a gigantic black stallion. Demon always looked to Tomoe like he was about to throw Yoshinaka off, the way his eyes rolled and his nostrils snorted steam when it was cold; but Yoshinaka trusted Demon like no other horse. How good a samurai was with a horse reflected how great a warrior he was, so by taming Demon, Yoshinaka had earned the respect of many a doubter. Most of the time, Yoshinaka controlled Demon just by giving him a stern look. Yet today, Demon reared up, whinnying and windmilling his front legs. The saddle crashed to the ground. Yoshinaka swore under his breath.
    â€œDemon. Stop.” Tomoe stepped over and took the reins from Yoshinaka. She put her face on the horse’s black one, stroking the white diamond in the middle of his face. Demon calmed as Yoshinaka strapped the saddle. Demon’s hooves stilled.
    â€œYou coming, Tomoe?” Yoshinaka climbed atop Demon.
    Tomoe indicated her new horse, Cherry Blossom, who was already saddled and ready. Yuki had been put out to pasture. “I’m the one who’s been waiting for you, Yoshi.”
    â€œDon’t call me that in public.” He winked. He had gained twenty pounds of muscle over the last year since the battle that had killed Kaneto. His face was lean and angular, his hair firmly