Part 23 (2/2)

His head snapped sideways as he avoided the blow, and I kicked at the hand that held the knife. He leaped away with unbelievable speed and then seemed to fly back at my head. I ducked just before he could kick me in the head and leaped into the air as he landed, all this time fighting off shock and pain, knowing that if I gave in to them for a moment, I would die. I was about to try to kick him in a similar way when I heard the upstairs window open and a small invisible object came hurtling out.

Kotaro was not expecting it and he heard it a second after I did. By then I had perceived it to be Taku. I leaped to break his fall, but he seemed almost to fly down onto Kotaro, distracting him momentarily. I turned my leap into a kick and rammed my foot hard into Kotaro's neck.

As I landed, Kenji shouted from above, ”Takeo! Here!” and threw Jato down to me.

I caught my sword in my left hand. Kotaro grabbed Taku, swung him above his head, and hurled him into the garden. I heard the boy gasp as he landed. I swung Jato above my head, but my right hand was pouring blood and the blade descended crookedly. Kotaro went invisible as I missed him. But now that I was armed he was more wary of me. I had a moments breathing s.p.a.ce. I tore off my sash and wound it around my palm.

Kenji leaped from the upstairs window, landed on his feet like a cat, and immediately went invisible. I could discern the two masters faintly and they could obviously see each other. I had fought alongside Kenji before and I knew if anyone did how truly dangerous he was, but I realized I had never seen him in action against anyone who had a fraction of his skills. He had a sword a little longer than Kotaro's knife and it gave him a slight advantage, but Kotaro was both brilliant and desperate. They drove each other up and down the floor and it cried out under their feet. Kotaro seemed to stumble, but as Kenji closed in on him, he recovered and kicked him in the ribs. They both split their images. I lunged at Kotaro's second self as Kenji somersaulted away from him. Kotaro turned to deal with me and I heard the whistling sound of throwing knives. Kenji had hurled them at his neck. The first blade penetrated and I saw Kotaro's vision begin to waver. His eyes were fixed on my face. He made one last vain thrust with his knife, but Jato seemed to antic.i.p.ate it and found its way into his throat. He tried to curse me as he died, but his windpipe was slashed and only blood came bubbling out, obscuring the words.

By now the sun had risen; when we gazed down on Kotaro's broken, bleeding body in its pale light, it was hard to believe that such a fragile human being had wielded so much power. Kenji and I had only just managed to overcome him between us and he had left me with a ruined hand, Kenji with terrible bruises and, we found out later, broken ribs. Taku was winded and shaken, lucky to be still alive. The guards who had come running at my shouts were as shocked as if a demon had attacked us. The dogs' hackles rose when they sniffed around the body, and they showed their teeth in uneasy snarls.

My fingers were gone, my palm was torn open. Once the terror and thrill of the fight had subsided, the pain truly made itself felt, turning me faint.

Kenji said, ”The knife blade was probably poisoned. We should take your hand off at the elbow to save your life.” I was light-headed with shock and at first thought he was joking, but his face was serious and his voice alarmed me. I made him promise he would not do it. I would rather be dead than lose what was left of my right hand. As it was, I thought I would never hold a sword or a brush again.

He washed the wound at once, told Chiyo to bring coals, and, while the guards knelt on me to hold me still, seared the stumps of the fingers and the edges of the wound and then bound it with what he said he hoped was an antidote.

The blade was indeed poisoned and I fell into h.e.l.l, a confusion of pain and fever and despair. As the long, tormented days pa.s.sed, I was aware that everyone thought I was dying. I did not believe I would die, but I could not speak to rea.s.sure the living. Instead, I lay in the upstairs room, thras.h.i.+ng and sweating and babbling to the dead.

They filed past me, those I had killed, those who had died for me, those I had avenged: my family in Mino; the Hidden at Yamagata; s.h.i.+geru; Ichiro; the men I had murdered on the Tribe's orders; Yuki; Amano; Jiro; Jo-An.

I longed for them to be alive again, I longed to see them in the flesh and hear their living voices; one by one they bade me farewell and left me, desolate and alone. I wanted to follow them, but I could not find the road they had taken.

At the worst point of the fever, I opened my eyes and saw a man in the room. I had never seen him before, but I knew he was my father. He wore peasant's clothes like the men of my village and he carried no weapons. The walls faded away and I was in Mino again; the village was unburned and the rice fields were brilliant green. I watched my father working in the fields, absorbed and peaceful. I followed him up the mountain path and into the forest and I knew how much he loved to roam there among its animals and plants, for it was what I loved too.

I saw him turn his head and listen in the familiar Kikuta way as he caught some distant noise. In a moment he would recognize the step: his cousin and friend who was coming to execute him. I saw Kotaro appear on the path in front of him.

He was dressed in the dark fighting clothes of the Tribe, as he had been when he came for me. The two men stood as if frozen before me, each with their distinctive stance: my father, who had taken a vow never to kill again, and the future Kikuta master, who lived by the trade of death and terror.

As Kotaro drew his knife I screamed out a warning. I tried to rise, but hands held me back. The vision faded, leaving me in anguish. I knew that I could not change the past, but I was aware, with the intensity of fever, that the conflict was still unresolved. However much men craved an end to violence, it seemed they could not escape it. It would go on and on forever unless I found a middle way, a way to bring peace, and the only way I could think of was to reserve all violence to myself, in the name of my country and my people. I would have to continue on my violent path so that everyone else could live free of it, just as I had to believe in nothing so everyone else was free to believe in what they wanted. I did not want that. I wanted to follow my father and forswear killing, living in the way my mother had taught me. The darkness rose around me and I knew that if I surrendered to it I could go after him and the conflict would be ended for me. The thinnest of veils separated me from the next world, but a voice was echoing through the shadows.

Your life is not your own. Peace comes at the price of bloodshed.

Behind the holy woman's words I heard Makoto calling my name. I did not know if he was dead or alive. I wanted to explain to him what I had learned and how I could not bear to act as I knew I would have to and so I was leaving with my father, but when I tried to speak, my swollen tongue would not frame the words. They came out as nonsense and I writhed in frustration, thinking we would be parted before I could talk to him.

He was holding my hands firmly. He leaned close and spoke clearly to me. ”Takeo! I know. I understand. It's all right. We will have peace. But only you can bring it. You must not die. Stay with us! You have to stay with us for the sake of peace.”

He talked to me like this for the rest of the night, his voice keeping the ghosts at bay and linking my spirit with this world. Dawn came and the fever broke. I slept deeply, and when I awoke, lucidity had returned. Makoto was still there and I wept for joy that he was alive. My hand still throbbed, but with the ordinary pain of healing, not with the ferocious agony of the poison. Kenji told me later he thought something must have come from my father, some immunity in the master poisoner's blood that protected me. It was then that I repeated to him the words of the prophecy, how my own son was destined to kill me and how I did not believe I would die before then. He was silent for a long time. ”Well,” he said finally. ”That must lie a long way in the future. We will deal with it when it comes.”

My son was Kenji's grandson. The prophecy seemed even more unbearably cruel to me. I was still weak and tears came easily. My body's frailty infuriated me. It was seven days before I could walk outside to the privy, fifteen before I could get on a horse again. The full moon of the eleventh month came and went. Soon it would be the solstice and then the year would turn, the snows would come. My hand began to heal: The wide, ugly scar almost obliterated both the silvery mark, from the burn I received the day s.h.i.+geru saved my life, and the straight line of the Kikuta.

Makoto sat with me day and night but said little to me. I felt he was keeping something from me and that Kenji also knew what it was. Once they brought Hiros.h.i.+ to see me and I was relieved that the boy lived. He seemed cheerful, telling me about their journey, how they had escaped the worst of the earthquake and had come upon the pathetic remnants of Arai's once mighty army, and how marvelous Shun had been, but I thought he was partly pretending. Sometimes Taku, who had aged years in a month, came to sit by me; like Hiros.h.i.+, he acted cheerfully, but his face was pale and strained. As my strength returned, I realized we should have heard from s.h.i.+zuka. Obviously everyone feared feared the worst, but I did not believe she was dead. Nor was Kaede, for neither of them had visited me in my delirium. the worst, but I did not believe she was dead. Nor was Kaede, for neither of them had visited me in my delirium.

Finally one evening Makoto said to me, ”We have had news from the South. The damage from the earthquake was even more severe there. At Lord Fujiwara's there was a terrible fire...”

He took my hand. ”I'm sorry, Takeo. It seems no one survived.”

”Fujiwara is dead?”

”Yes, his death is confirmed.” He paused and added quietly, ”Kondo Kiichi died there.”

Kondo, whom I had sent with s.h.i.+zuka...

”And your friend?” I asked.

”He also. Poor Mamoru. I think he would almost have welcomed it.”

I said nothing for a few moments. Makoto said gently, ”They have not found her body, but...”

”I must know for sure,” I said. ”Will you go there for me?”

He agreed to leave the next morning. I spent the night anguis.h.i.+ng over what I would do if Kaede was dead. My only desire would be to follow her; yet how could I desert all those who had stayed so loyally by me? By dawn I'd recognized the truth of Jo-An's words, and Makoto's. My life was not my own. Only I could bring peace. I was condemned to live.

During the night something else occurred to me, and I asked to see Makoto before he left. I was worried about the records that Kaede had taken to s.h.i.+rakawa with her. If I was to live, I wanted to have them back in my possession before winter began. For I had to spend the long months in planning the summers strategy; those of my enemies who remained would not hesitate to use the Tribe against me. I felt I would have to leave Hagi in the spring and impose my rule over the Three Countries, maybe even set up my headquarters in Inuyama and make it my capital. It made me smile half-bitterly, for its name means Dog Mountain, and it was as if it had been waiting for me.

I told Makoto to take Hiros.h.i.+ with him. The boy would show him where the records were hidden. I could not suppress the fluttering hope that Kaede would be at s.h.i.+rakawa-that Makoto would somehow bring her back to me.

They returned on a bitterly cold day nearly two weeks later. I saw they were alone, and disappointment nearly overcame me. They were also empty-handed.

”The old woman who guards the shrine would give the records to no one but you,” Makoto said. ”I'm sorry, I could not persuade her otherwise.”

Hiros.h.i.+ said eagerly, ”We will go back. I will go with Lord Otori.”

”Yes, Lord Otori must go,” Makoto said. He seemed to be going to speak again but then fell silent.

”What?” I prompted him.

He was looking at me with a strange expression of compa.s.sion and pure affection. ”We will all go,” he said. ”We will learn once and for all if there is any news of Lady Otori.”

I longed to go yet feared it would be a useless journey and that it was too late in the year. ”We run the risk of being caught by the snow,” I said. ”I had planned to winter in Hagi.”

”If the worse comes to the worst, you can stay in Terayama. I am going there on the way back. I will be staying there, for I can see my time with you is drawing to a close.”

”You are going to leave me? Why?”

”I feel I have feel I have other work to do. You have achieved all that I set out to help you with. I am being called back to the temple.” other work to do. You have achieved all that I set out to help you with. I am being called back to the temple.”

I was devastated. Was I to lose everyone I loved? I turned away to hide my feelings.

”When I thought you were dying, I made a vow,” Makoto went on. ”I promised the Enlightened One that if you lived, I would devote my life to your cause in a different way. I've fought and killed alongside you and I would do it gladly all over again. Except that it solves nothing, in the end. Like the weasel's dance, the cycle of violence goes on and on.”

His words rang in my ears. They were exactly what had pounded in my brain while I was delirious.

”You talked in your fever about your father and about the command of the Hidden, to take no one's life. As a warrior, it's hard for me to understand, but as a monk it is a command that I feel I must try and follow. I vowed that night that I would never kill again. Instead, I will seek peace through prayer and meditation. I left my flutes atTerayama to take up weapons. I will leave my weapons here and go back for them.”

He smiled slightly. ”When I speak the words, they sound like madness. I am taking the first step only on a long and difficult journey, but it is one I must make.”

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