Tag Archives: Inuyama Rebellion

Inuyama Rebellion: Part Eighteen

Masato watched Gempei and all but three of his warriors leave and go into one of the buildings, then let his head drop. They had placed Jiro down into the cold mud next to him, but he had no heart to face his master. He had been left in charge of getting the young lord to safety, and he had failed. Worse, he had shown himself to be a coward in the process, and not worthy of the name of samurai.

At first, Jiro checked on Taro, seeing the boy’s swelling split lip, but the younger boy was healthy enough and the damage seemed superficial. Then, Masato felt Jiro’s eyes on him.

“How are you, lad?” He asked. “Have you been hurt?”

Masato made a noise to indicate he hadn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to meet his master’s eyes.

“What’s wrong, lad?” Jiro said, concern in his voice.

His heart filled with shame, Masato let his head drop into the mud in front of Jiro. His hands were tied behind his back, as were Jiro’s and Taro’s, so all he could do was splash his forehead into the mud.

Tears and dirt covering his face, he cried- “Sensei. Please forgive me. I failed to protect our young lord! I failed in the duty you gave me!”

The Kurokawa samurai, who were watching this with mild interest, began to laugh until a look from Jiro shut them up and made them turn away. A monk had appeared with food, and they began to eat eagerly.

“Yes, you failed me.” Said Jiro, looking from the young lord, and back to the crying Masato. “But, tell me, is the young lord still alive?”

“What?” Masato looked up at him with confused

bloodshot eyes. “What do you mean?

“Answer me!” Jiro barked. “Is the young lord still alive?”

“Uhhh.” Masato looked around, not sure what to say. He looked at Taro, who was looking at him with sympathy, then he looked back down at the ground, still not daring to look at his master. “Yes sensei, he is.”

“Then lad, you have not failed me,” his master told him. “Look at me Masato.”

With a little more coaxing, Masato did as he was told.

“Masato, I want you to remember what I’m going to tell you now.” Jiro said in a tone that made his seriousness clear. “You must remember this, do you understand?”

“Yes, sensei.” Masato bobbed his head. “I do.”

“For a true samurai,” said the master. “Living for your lord, is just as important as dying for your lord. A lord without men has no future, and that cannot be. You chose to live so that Taro would not be without servants, and that is the way of a true warrior. We must endure so that he can be returned home safely, and so that he will grow up knowing the kind of men who serve his family. That is what it is to be a samurai.”

Masato could feel that he had begun to cry again, but this time he felt they were tears of emotion, not self-pity. “Yes, sensei! I will remember it, sensei!” He knocked his head against the mud again a few times in respect to his teacher.

When at last he had calmed down, he felt a great stone had been moved from his heart, and his head was filled again with thoughts for the future.

In particular, “Sensei, what do we do next?”

Jiro, who had closed his eyes and laid back against the wall behind him, shook his head. “Just wait, lad.”

Wait? Thought Masato. That didn’t seem very productive.

Then the first of the guards fell over, followed by the second, and a moment later the third was also face-down in the mud. The monk who had brought their food stepped forward, shaking his head in contempt at the unseemly mess the men had made.

“Elder Ryosen sends you his greetings.” Said the monk to the three travellers.

*     *     *

The monk lead the trio to a nearby chamber where they found Ryosen nervously waiting for them. Jiro nodded to his old friend as he entered, and the elder allowed himself a quick nervous smile back.

“You’re safe,” said the elder. “That’s good. Very good.”

“No thanks to you!” Masato accused. “Sensei, this man lead the Kurokawa right to us! I saw him let them in!”

Jiro shook his head solemnly. “It’s okay, lad. The elder here just did what he had to do.”

“Huh?” Said Masato, looking at his master. “But…”

“Young man,” said Ryosen. “It was one of my subordinates that brought the Kurokawa here without my knowledge. When they came, I had to greet them as guests for the sake of the temple and those who live here. I have helped Jiro recover you, as I promised, and now I will help you escape. We do not have much time.”

Masato looked to his master, unsure of whether to believe what he had just heard, and Jiro indicated that it was indeed true. Then Masato looked at Taro, who merely shrugged, and both boys turned to Ryosen expectantly.

“Quickly,” the priest told them. “Come with me.”

With Ryosen in the lead, they slipped out through a hidden back door and into an alleyway. Rushing along the alley, they made several turns, and then came out at a gap near the river.

The mist of the waterfall was mixing with the morning fog to make a thick soup that made it hard to see more than a few metres ahead of you, even worse than it had been the night before. On a cloudy morning, there was no sun to burn away the fog, and Jiro thanked the seven lucky gods for that.

Under the cover of the mist, they were able to make their way along the river toward the sound of the rushing water. After a short distance, Ryosen put up his hand to indicate they needed to stop, and then disappeared into the greyness ahead of them.

A moments later, he returned shaking his head.

“Your hunter is more dangerous than I thought. He has left six of his own men guarding the bridge.”

Jiro frowned, it would be hard to get passed six trained men, especially since not one of the four were even armed. He said as much to Ryosen.

“Yes,” Ryosen agreed. “But there is a way. I will go and tell them that their company is leaving, and when they go we will slip across the bridge and away.”

“We?” Jiro asked, raising an eyebrow.

Ryosen gave a faded smile. “I’m sure the temple will do just fine without me. Rescuing the young lord here is quite a feat, and should bring a reward to live on. Besides, I miss the taste of meat so badly I could turn into a wolf.”

Both old men shared a chuckle at that, while the young ones looked puzzled, and then Ryosen said, “now follow me at a distance, and when you see them leave- come running.”

Jiro and the boys did exactly that, following the aging priest along the shoreline and then ducking behind the same scrubby bushes Jiro had used mere hours before for his own approach.

As they watched, Ryosen straightened and walked out of the fog to greet the soldiers, bowing politely with his prayer beads in hand. The lead soldier approached him, and they talked for a time, Ryosen gesturing back toward the temple.

“Something’s wrong,” Jiro told the boys. As they watched, the leader waved his hand “no”, and then pointed to one of his men who went running off into the foggy night.

“Sensei?” Masato asked, worried.

“He’s being smart, lad.” Jiro told him. “That samurai is checking with his commander before he leaves his post.” What Jiro didn’t tell the boy, however, was that in a few minutes that bridge entrance would be filled with enemy soldiers. Even worse, Ryosen could do nothing but wait until the Kurokawa returned- and when they did, he’d be killed.


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The Inuyama Rebellion: Part Seventeen

When he thought he’d gone far enough, Jiro turned on his pursuers and drew his sword. This caused the two large monks to skid to a halt and raise their bo-staffs in a defencive position.

It was an old contest- the staff, a good weapon to use in defence, had the advantage of reach and power. The sword, on the other hand, was a weapon of speed and lethal accuracy, and in the hands of a master like Jiro one cut was all that was needed.

Under the moonlight, in the world of shadows and greys, the three men watched each other, frozen as if statues, each trying to think their way through a battle that could mean life and death. The two monks would have trained together, would know a common style and be used to fighting in concert- this gave them the advantage of power through unity. Jiro, in opposition, was a warrior of long experience in many situations, and he knew not just how monks fought, but how they fought in pairs.

The stillness seemed to last hours, but in reality only a few seconds had passed, and feeling both a need for time and having a certainty that he could finish this quickly- Jiro elected to act first.

But, just as his muscles tensed to strike, there was a voice calling out in the night.

“Stop!” Said the breathless voice. “Stop now!”

The monks paused, not sure what this might mean, and perhaps feeling a little relief at the idea of not having to fight. Jiro, for his part, froze in place, but was no less dangerous.

“Both of you,” the elder Ryosen wheezed as he came running up to stop next to the monks. “Don’t fight. Don’t…fight.” He waved his hand, gesturing to them to move away, and also waved another hand at Jiro while he caught his breath.

Hearing the elder’s words, the two guardians took a step back, still keeping an eye on the elder samurai.

“Yamaguchi-san.” Ryosen told him. “Put away your sword, and come with me right now.”

Jiro eyed him angrily. “The Kurokawa are here.”

“Yes,” Ryosen nodded, regaining his composure and meeting his old comrade’s gaze without flinching. “They are here, and they have your two young boys. Both of whom will die, unless you lay down your arms and become my prisoner.

*     *     *

The sky had begun to brighten, and the birds were calling the first cries of dawn, as Gempei watched his men place the two captives against the wall. Around the samurai and his men, a number of the monks had gathered to watch from a short distance away.

Let them watch, thought Gempei. These charlatans needed to learn to respect their betters, and a little reminder of who was in charge would be a good thing.

As he watched, Lord Inuyama’s younger son protested his treatment at the hands of the soldier. This earned him a slap and he was shoved down into his place- a tickle of blood running from a split lip.

Gempei shook his head- noble brat. The sooner someone put some sense into that one, the better. If he’d had any, he would have joined with his brother and begged Lord Kurokawa for forgiveness and refuge. Instead he’d gone with Jiro and this other boy, and this is what it’d gotten him.

Jiro? Considered Gempei, wondering where his elder rival was. He had men searching the temple for him, but there had been no word…

Art by Brushmen

Then there was a shout to “make way” from behind the gathered onlookers, and they parted to reveal just the man he’d been thinking of being lead by two of the temple’s larger monks. Behind them was Elder Ryosen, walking stiff as a board.

In a flash, Gempei had rushed to Jiro, drawn the sword this man had stolen from the sheath carried by one of the guards, and swung it to the prisoner’s throat.

“You stole my blade and my honour,” Gempei raged as he lay the naked steel against the older man’s flesh. “Your head will be my gift to our lord.” Then he barked orders at the two monks who held Jiro’s arms- “Make him kneel so I can finish this.”

When the two monks hesitated, Gempei raised his blade toward them. “Why do you wait? Do it!”

Suddenly Ryosen was between them prostrating, his head touching the ground at Gempei’s feet. “Please, my lord!” He wailed. “Show mercy! These are temple grounds. Show mercy!”

Gempei looked down at the begging man in contempt. “This man has wronged me! Do you think the gods don’t know that?”

“Buddha is merciful!” Responded the elder. “He grants mercy to those who have sinned, and shows them the shining way.”

Gempei shook his head. “Save your nonsense, priest. I’ll have none of it. This is between warriors, and your god has no place here.”

But the older man kept begging, and Gempei noticed that not only were the monks grumbling, but a few of his own men didn’t seem especially happy about the situation either. At last, he took his sheath from the monk who held it and let his sword drop into it.

“Don’t think this former man has saved you, Jiro.” He said, looking into the older samurai’s still-defiant eyes. “As soon as we’re free of this retched place I will mount your head atop my banner and give you a good view of your lord’s soon to be former lands.”

Then a gong sounded, deep and low.

“My lord,” said the Elder Ryosen, getting up and brushing the mud off his knees. “Will you dine with us before you start your journey? It is a poor fare, but we will offer it gladly.”

At first, Gempei was going to decline, but then his stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten since the officer’s party at dinner the night before and he decided that vengeance could wait a short time longer.

Sparing Jiro a glance as the man was tied up and placed with the boys, he ordered several of his men to stand guard, and then nodded to the priest. “Lead on.”


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The Inuyama Rebellion: Part Sixteen

Standing in the courtyard, the elder priest Ryosen bowed deeply before Kiba Gempei, as did the other senior members of the temple.

“We are honoured by your presence, my lord. It is a most unexpected pleasure.”

Gempei looked at the monks with disdain- he considered them loafers and men who had failed to make something of their lives. The fact that this one seemed a little drunk only confirmed his suspicions of these men as a class. As he saw it, they were of little use except as political pawns and occasionally as go-betweens when a message needed to be delivered covertly. Tonight they were neither, and he intended to get this over with as quickly as possible.

“The signal flame,” he said, looking around. “Why did you burn it?”

“Ah?” Ryosen said, and Gempei saw a look of surprise on his red face for a moment. “Yes…we…have visitors that may be of interest to the Kurokawa.”

“Who?”

“A samurai and two boys.” Said elder with a polite bow.

Gempei couldn’t help but clutch the hilt of his sword in anticipation of success. “Take me to them,” he ordered, and the elder lead the Kurokawa samurai and his warriors through the series of courtyards to the guest quarters. It was getting toward dawn, but the corridors were still dark, and the temple dimly lit.

Upon arrival, Gempei had his men fan out, covering the exits, then he sent two men up to the room’s sliding door. They crouched by the door, slowly pulling it partially open to look inside, then the one who looked in turned to Gempei and shook his head.

The room was empty- they were already gone!

*          *          *

Jiro lead his charges on a run through the early morning temple, pausing at corners and doorways to watch out for monks and finding none. He didn’t know how the Kurokawa had found them, but he knew they had only one way out- if his suspicions were correct.

Finally, the trio came to the edge where the temple grounds met the river. There was no wall here, because none was needed, the rushing waters and the roaring waterfall were a defence against all but the most suicidal.

Just back from the head of the waterfall, the two stone pillars that marked the entrance to the temple bridge could be seen. Each pillar had a lantern with a lit flame inside carved out of stone at its head, and thick ropes wrapped around its base to anchor the bridge. Beyond the pillars, the rope bridge disappeared into the fog shrouded night.

Before the bridge, under the flickering light of the two lanterns, a pair of broad shouldered monks brandishing staffs stood like the twin warriors who guarded the gates of hell.

Inwardly, Jiro gave a little sigh of relief at seeing the guards. Even though they were an obstacle that would have to be overcome, they meant that the bridge was in fact crossable- after all, who guards a broken bridge?

With a motion to stay back, Jiro turned and looked at the two boys crouched in the mouth of the alley.

“Masato,” he told the elder boy. “There’s two guards and a fight would take too much of our time. I will distract them- you and Taro will flee across and wait for me on the other side.”

“But…Sensei!” Masato protested, and behind him Taro also looked worried.

Jiro cut them off with a motion of his hand, and then rested it on Masato’s shoulder. “I’m counting on you to protect the young lord. Can you do it?”

Masato looked at his teacher with worry in his eyes, but then he sucked in a deep breath and nodded. “I will, sensei.”

“Good lad,” Jiro patted his shoulder and turned, preparing to go.

*      *      *

Masato watched his teacher approach the guards, using the stubby bushes that grew near the water as cover. At first he considered that his sensei was going a rather poor job of sneaking up on the guards, but then it occurred to him that this was in fact the point.

Sure enough, when he’d come to the edge of the misty lantern light, one of the guards suddenly spotted him and raised a call in challenge. This made Jiro leap up, and sprint past the guards, fleeing toward the falls, and away from where the two boys hid.

Seeing that both guards were now following Jiro, Masato turned and looked at the shivering Taro, who stood there clutching his travel sack of scrolls. Masato wasn’t sure if his shivering was because of the damp morning chill, or if the boy was just afraid, but he knew he had to do something.

“It’ll be okay, my lord.” He said, reaching back to pat Taro on the shoulder just as Jiro had done to him. “Sensei will meet us on the other side, so let’s go.”

The boy, still clearly unsure, nodded his head in agreement, and Masato turned, taking one last look to make sure the guards were still gone. Seeing nothing but the empty pillars, and the lanterns glowing ghostly in the fog, Masato started to run for the bridge with Taro close behind him.

They were almost to the bridge when it happened.

Art by Brushmen

There was a thud behind him, and Masato suddenly skidded to a halt on the wet stone, then looked back to see Taro flailing on the ground. At first his heart shook with fear at the thought something might have happened, but then he saw the younger boy pull himself upright and realized he’d only slipped.

Returning quickly, he found Taro quickly stuffing fallen scrolls back into his sack. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Taro half-cried, clearly very afraid, but Masato ignored the boy, helping to gather the scrolls.

Emotion wouldn’t help, he knew from his teacher, he needed to just focus on getting the job done. Those who became emotional couldn’t do anything well and he fought to keep his feelings under control for his young lord’s sake.

“Let’s go,” he told Taro as he helped him up. “We need to…”

The arrow whizzed through the air and struck the ground just in front of them, lodging there with a sharp “twang!”

Like an army of demons, the black-clad armoured samurai materialized from the foggy darkness behind them, causing Masato to nearly faint.

“Don’t move boy,” ordered Kiba Gempei, notching another arrow and pointing it at Masato. “Or the next one goes through your heart.”


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The Inuyama Rebellion: Part Fifteen

“You asked to see me, elder?”

The elder Ryosen turned from the window, his sallow features filled with shadows from the candle-light and making him look much older than his forty or so winters. He did his best to smile.

“Yes, Yamaguchi-san.” He slid the window covering shut and gestured toward the table that had been prepared with sake and cups in the middle of the room. “Please, join me.”

Jiro cracked a smile. “Isn’t wine one of the great enemies of holy men, elder?”

“Wine is forbidden to those who seek the way,” agreed the elder solemnly as they both sat down on the floor around the table. “However, sometimes one must leave the path of righteousness and take a break for the good of the spirit.”

Art by Brushmen

“Are you saying monks are only human?”

“All monks are men, and all men have past lives.” Said the elder, pouring out two wooden bowls of wine.

“Well then,” said Jiro cheerfully, raising his bowl in a toast. “Here’s to the past. Kampai!”

The elder echoed his sentiment and both men downed their bowls in a single swallow. Then as the elder refilled them, he finally allowed himself a smile.

“It is good to see you, Yamaguchi. I’m sorry I couldn’t greet you more warmly when you first arrived, but discussion of past lives is discouraged here and I need to set an example.”

Jiro shook his head. “No, I was wrong to bring it up. I should have remembered that and let you approach me first. Forgive me.”

Ryosen handed him a bowl. “There is nothing to forgive, my friend. How is your life in these troubled times?”

Jiro responded by telling him the state of the Inuyama clan and the events that had lead up to Jiro and Masato’s mission to the Kurokawa lands. Ryosen listened with a frown, and nodded sadly. “I may not have been a part of the clan for some time, but I still have a place in my heart for it. I am sorry to hear of these misfortunes.”

“Good and bad. Good and bad. It’s the way of the world,” said Jiro philosophically, looking at his old friend. “But if you can help us get across to the other side, you could save a lot of lives, Fukui-san.”

The elder looked away, refusing to meet his old comrade’s gaze. “We will see the state of the bridge in the morning.” He said with some anxiety. “A crossing at night is too dangerous.”

Jiro watched him for a time, then shrugged. “I didn’t say it had to be tonight. Besides, you have your responsibilities to think of- you are the elder of the temple after all.”

That brought an ironic smile to Ryosen’s face and he downed his wine. “Yes, elder of the temple.” Then he looked at Jiro- “I envy you, Yamaguchi. You have both your duty and your freedom, it seems I only have duty.”

Jiro raised an eyebrow.

“Yes,” the elder nodded. “I wanted to run this temple, and now that I do I can see what a task it is. I am responsible for keeping nearly sixty men fed and clothed in this crumbling old place. They seek peace while I seek money and donations. They seek enlightenment, while I seek survival.” He shook his head. “I feel like a firefly who cannot escape a forest of spiders.”

“What of the abbot, Kiyomizu?” Jiro asked. “Won’t he return soon and relieve you of this burden?”

That got another ironic smile. “Kiyomizu will be gone a long time, and I must sit in his cold place until he returns- if he returns.”

“You always were one to get yourself into tight spots,” Jiro said, trying to lighten the mood. “Remember when we were fighting in Taniguchi and you got into it with some of Lord Kaze’s men?”

Ryosen nodded. “They accused me of cheating at dice, and I realized the rest of you had gone to another inn. It was a miracle I got out of that one.”

Jiro smirked. “So tell me the truth- did you really fight your way out?”

“Of course not!” Ryosen finally laughed. “I started a fight with a gangster and crawled out on my hands and knees while everyone went at it around me!”

The two old soldiers talked long into the night.

*                        *                        *

The hit woke Masato up.

He’d been struck across the face before, but this really hurt, and he glared at the boy on the blanket next to him whose flying hand had done the deed. But, despite the glaring, Taro’s snoring was his only response, and Masato quickly gave up his thoughts of payback- this kid was possibly his future lord, after all.

Sitting up, he looked around in the moonlight that filtered through the oiled paper windows.

Jiro was on the far side of the room, closest to the door, and sound asleep. He’d come back sometime earlier, reeking of alcohol and humming a tune Masato didn’t know. Masato did wonder where he’d found alcohol in the temple, but decided it was better not to ask and had rolled over and gone back to sleep.

This time, he knew he wouldn’t be able to return to sleep so easily, and made his way quietly to the door while giving Jiro a large berth. The last thing he needed was to startle awake a drunk samurai who slept with his sword close at hand. Slipping on his sandals in the alcove, he slid open the door and closed it quietly behind him.

Now the question was which was to go?

It had perhaps been an oversight not to ask where the monks made water when they’d been shown to their rooms, and now Masato was faced with the prospect of wandering around in a strange and poorly lit temple in the middle of the night.

Not sure which way led out, he decided his best choice was to go left and see where it took him. Sure enough, once he’d gone a short distance he found another pair of corridors, and he decided to go left again in hopes that he’d be able to find his way back by just going right a few times.

It was a reasonable strategy, and luckily for him the third left led him outside into one of the temple courtyards. Everything outside seemed to shine in the moonlight- all the surfaces slick and wet with the mist from the waterfall.

Seeing a nearby tree at the wall’s edge, Masato wandered over to it and started to do his business. He wondered if it was bad luck to pee in a temple, but then reasoned since the monks must themselves urinate it should be okay. Unless they studied a way to keep their pee inside- he hadn’t really considered that. They were supposed to know special tricks with their bodies, and it might explain why they seemed so crotchety all the time when they talked to him…

Just as he was finishing up, Masato heard a soft but deep gonging noise from somewhere near the temple entrance. Curious, he pulled up his trousers and began to wander in that direction.

The temple had several courtyards, each one terraced at a different level than the others. Masato guessed he was in a middle one, and his suspicions were confirmed as he entered a doorway to find himself standing on a balcony looking down on the main courtyard below.

Far to the other side of the open grounds, he could see torches being carried to the main doors of the temple, and there was a long low groaning sound as the doors began to swing open.

Masato watched as what seemed like a small army of black armoured samurai poured through the gates and into the temple, and at their lead rode a man he had last seen unconscious by his master’s hand.

The Kurokawa had found them!


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The Inuyama Rebellion- Part Fourteen

The front gates of the Temple of Waterfalls were high and imposing- thick wood painted red and speckled with the dark shapes of rivets that held the ancient hardwood fast against all who might try to enter those walls.  Next to the gates was a large bronze bell hanging from a stone outcropping, and beside it was a small log tied up to another outcropping so that it hung with one cloth-wrapped end facing the bell.

Having rung the bell, the trio now waited.

It didn’t take long before there was a creaking noise and a black gap appeared between the two vaulted doors as they swung inward. From between them, three dark robed monks appeared and came out to greet the trio, each of them bald as they day they were born and wearing wooden beaded Ju necklaces.

“In Buddha’s name, we greet you,” said the leader of the three, and all bowed in unison.

Jiro returned their bow, with Masato rushing to copy him and Taro just staring.

“Thank you, hoshi. We are sorry to trouble you at this hour, but we seek an audience with the Abbot Kiyomizu.”

Jiro caught surprise for a second on the leader’s face, and then it quickly returned to the pacific smile it had been.

“I am sorry, traveller.” The monk said in a sympathetic tone. “The Abbot is not here. He has been called away to another temple.”

“I see,” Jiro licked his lips. This wasn’t quite what he’d hoped for. Still, he had to trundle on. “Would it be possible to have an audience with your senior monk, then?”

“Of course,” the monk stepped back and gestured inside. “Please, enter sanctuary.”

*                             *                             *

The main hall of the temple was long, with a vaulted ceiling held up by a row of red pillars, and ending in a golden statue of the Buddha. Before the central altar, the purple robed elders of the temple had gathered to meet their guests, their leader standing before them adorned with an additional orange outer sash hanging off one shoulder.

“I am…” He began to say in introduction, but was suddenly cut off by Jiro.

“Fukui?” Jiro blurted in surprise. “Fukui-san? Is that you?”

The senior monk’s blank expression changed to an uncomfortable one. “I am the acting abbot of this temple,” he pressed on. “My religious name is Ryosen. Welcome to our temple.”

Jiro was surprised at his old comrade’s coldness, and wanted to press the issue, but decided that now wasn’t the time.

“We are honoured to meet you, Elder Ryosen.” Jiro bowed. “I am Yamaguchi Jiro, retainer of Lord Inuyama. This is my apprentice Masato, and my lord’s second son, Inuyama no Taro.”

Jiro then went on to explain their situation, and their goals, all the while watching the elders of the temple exchange ever more anxious glances. He couldn’t blame them, if anyone learned that they had helped Jiro’s party escape they would be a very dangerous position. However, Buddhist monks were obligated to show mercy to travellers in distress, even ones such as they.

Ryosen listened carefully to Jiro’s explanation, showing none of the distress his comrades did, and then when Jiro had finished the older man nodded sagely.

“Buddha has brought you to us. We will not turn you away.” He announced. “You will be given shelter here. However, I must tell you that we may not be able to offer you everything you seek.”

“Elder?” Jiro asked, in fact he was slightly older than Ryosen was, but used the term out of respect.

Ryosen gave a deep sigh. “Recent heavy rains have damaged the bridges which connect us to the other side. A crossing may be…difficult, but we will do our best.”

“I see…” Jiro considered, then bowed again. “We appreciate your efforts.”

“But you have had a long trip here,” the Elder gestured towards one of the novice monks. “We will discuss this later. Follow this brother and he will find you a place to sleep and something to fill your bellies. I am afraid our fare here will be simple compared to what you are used to, but what we have we will happily share.”

“Not at all,” Jiro responded politely. “We’re so sorry for troubling you.”

*                             *                             *

Masato showed the sense he’d had in the Inn of a Thousand Lanterns a few days earlier and waited until they were alone before he spoke.

“Sensei, do you know the elder?”

Taro paused from wolfing down his rice and pickled radishes to look at Jiro as well.

“Aye,” Jiro said, leaning back onto the tatami floor with his sake cup. “He was one of our lord’s samurai. We both entered his service around the same time, and Fukui-san and I were both juniors under Inuyama no Hanzo- our lord’s cousin.”

“Really? He knew my uncle?” Taro asked.

Jiro nodded. “He did, young master. But I wouldn’t expect him to talk of fond memories. Fukui-san was caught gambling after your uncle had expressly forbidden it, and forced to leave our lord’s service.” Then Jiro smiled ruefully. “I always wondered what became of him.”

“Looks like he’s gone straight, sensei.” Masato offered.

“Yes,” Taro agreed. “He has achieved a great honourable position.”

“I suppose,” Jiro said, stroking his chin thoughtfully, then shrugged. “I wouldn’t have expected it of him, but I have heard it said religion changes some people.”

“Sensei, do you think we’ll be able to cross tonight?”

Jiro shook his head. “If the bridge is damaged, I doubt it. We’ll have to wait the night here and learn the truth of things in the morning.”

*                             *                             *

Some small distance away, the swordsman Kiba Gempei was in the middle of a dinner of his own at a local Inn, although the fare on his table was considerably richer than that which the trio ate. He was the guest of the commander of a nearby garrison, and had stopped for the night with his soldiers to take a break in their search.

As the two men dined, there was a sudden knock at the door, and after the requisite courtesies a lieutenant of the garrison delivered a message to his commander. Yohei’s host read it, then dismissed the messenger to wait outside.

“Good news, I hope?” Gempei asked in a tired voice. He’d been on the road for the past two days straight, and was looking forward to a soft night’s rest.

“Neither good nor bad,” the officer said, drinking a cup of sake. “A signal fire has been lit at one of the mountain temples. Seems the bozu have something they wish to tell us.”

“Really? Which temple?”

The commander shrugged. “That one next to the waterfall that Kiyomizu used to run before Lord Kurokawa had him replaced. The new elder is always trying to get me to go up there so he can pester me for donations.”

Gempei nodded, thoughtfully. “Is there a bridge from that temple to the other side, perchance?”

The commander indicated there was.

Gempei turned his sake cup upside down and called for his men.


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The Inuyama Rebellion- Part Twelve

The lord of the Kurokawa was starting to grow weary of debating this tiresome samurai and considered whether the wait was really worth the trouble.

“Your lord’s rebellion will fail, Yamaguchi-san.” Kurokawa said plainly. “He was most foolish to tempt fate. Now he will lose both his land and his sons.”

“My lord?” chirped Masahiro, fear strong in his voice.

That only earned him a tired glance from the master of the clan. “Do not trouble yourself, Masahiro. I’m sure I will find some use for you.”

Sensing the lord’s annoyance, but not being one to let that kind of thing stop him, Jiro continued the debate. “The people are starving, they can’t afford any more koku of rice in taxes. What else is he supposed to do?”

“Why ask, of course. That’s all he needed to do.” Kurokawa answered, then added with fake sincerity- “Ask me for help, and as a good neighbour I would be most happy to give him what he needs.”

That brought an unkind smile to Jiro’s lips. “And how much land would he have to secede to you to pay for that, kind lord?” He shook his head. “It’s a devil’s bargain, and you know it.”

“Oh, where is that servant?” Kurokawa cursed, looking about for the young man.

“Please, my lord.” Gempei urged him to be calm, not wanting to lose his chance to show off his prowess to the lord’s temper. “I’m sure he will return soon enough.”

“He…” Then Kurokawa spotted the servant rushing into the torchlight.  “Ahh, here he is.”

Gempei stepped forward, and bowed to his master. “My lord, with your permission?”

“Oh, you have it.” Kurokawa said with a sneer, then added- “Try not to be too quick, Gempei. I want to study his art.”

“Of course, my lord.” And Gempei stepped down off the platform to walk over and stand facing Jiro in the firelight.

But, as the young servant approached, he did not go to Jiro, but in fact went straight to stand before the feudal lord himself.

“Honored lord,” said the young man, offering out the wooden practice sword with both hands. “I believe I have brought the sword you requested, but could you please check it?”

“It is a wooden sword, servant. Just give it to him.” Said one of Kurokawa’s retainers who stood nearby.

The Bokken, my Lord.

The bokken my Lord. (Art by Brushmen)

Masato just shook his head. “B-but…My lord. I wouldn’t want to give him a poor sword and have it break. And…I am not a good judge of these things. Your servant does not want to take chances.”

Used to inspiring caution in his minions, the lord of the Kurokawa nodded and gestured for Masato to approach. “Yes, fine. Bring it here and let me see it.” He said, leaning down to take a closer look at the bokken held up by the young man.

“The bokken, my lord.”

But, no sooner had Kurokawa leaned in than the wooden sword was dropping to the ground and a knife drawn from Masato’s sleeve appeared at his throat!

That brought a series of startled gasps from the people around them, a disgusted look from Jiro, and a surprised whimper from the lord himself.

“Stay back everyone! Or I’ll cut his throat!” Masato shouted, pulling the lord down off the raised stage with a sharp tug. Then he looked at Gempei, “You! Give Yamaguchi-sensei your sword, now!”

Gempei crossed his arms with defiance. “I would rather die.”

It was at that point that Jiro decided he’d better take control of the situation. Lunging forward, Jiro punched the momentarily distracted Gempei across the jaw and sent him tumbling to the ground, then drew the other man’s sword before he could react and pointed it at his throat.

“Lucky for you, Gempei, I don’t have time to oblige.” He told the swordsman, then turned and walked over to where his own young master still knelt. “Here you go, young lord. Let me help you up.”

“Thank you, Yamaguchi-san.” Taro said, casting a hesitant glance at his cowering sibling nearby. “But…My brother?”

“Don’t go with them, Taro!” His brother urged. “Not if you want to live.”

Jiro shook his head, then grabbed the boy’s shoulder and said with sympathy. “I think your brother has made his own choice, young lord. Now come, we need to go before anyone tries anything stupid. Masato!”

“Yes, sensei?”

“It’s a beautiful night, Masato.” He gestured in the direction of the front gate. “Let’s take Lord Kurokawa for a walk.”

*                             *                             *

Some time and distance later on a forested path, three horses hushed the crickets with their pounding hooves as they raced through the night.

Finally, confident that their pursuers had been left far behind them, Jiro signalled to the two boys to pull back on the reins and stop. Lord Kurokawa had been exchanged for horses, and been left some distance behind- nothing hurt except for his pride. Jiro had been tempted to finish the Daimyo there and then, but that would be both dishonourable, and accomplish little. One of Kurokawa’s sons -or worse his wife!- would have taken the man’s position and launched a campaign of vengeance against the Inuyama that could never have ended in peace. Better to have an overconfident sadist on the throne who cared so much for his own skin and that could be negotiated with.

However, that still left another detail for Jiro to take care of, and as he slid off his horse, he motioned for Masato to do the same. Taro followed suit.

Masato was smiling, clearly proud of himself and what he’d accomplished. He stepped forward to claim his reward- and Jiro punched him only slightly softer than he’d punched Gempei earlier.

“What the hell kind of plan was that? Are you stupid?!?!”

“Yamaguchi-san, what are you doing?” Gasped Taro.

Jiro shook his head. “Sorry, young lord. This is between me and the lad.”

“But…But Sensei!” Masato protested, holding his jaw. “I got us out of there!”

“You idiot! Next time set fire to the stables as a distraction and let me escape on my own! If Kurokawa’s men weren’t such cowards there was no way that would have worked!”

“Oh.” Replied a downcast Masato. “Yes, sensei. I will…sensei.”

Jiro sighed. “I just hope I live long enough for you to outgrow your stupidity!” Then he paused and looked around. “Alright, at least we’ve got horses, so we can put some distance between them and us. It’ll take us about a day to reach the river if we ride hard, maybe longer if we have to avoid patrols…”

“Sensei, may I speak?” Asked Masato, and his master eyed him for a moment.

“Is it an excuse?”

“No, sensei.”

Jiro gave him a nod of approval.

“Sensei,” Masato began, quickly forgetting his pain. “While I was a servant I overheard Lord Kurokawa and Gempei talking. They said that our lord is meeting Lord Sugura.”

Jiro had learned as much from the talkative Daimyo as they waited for Masato to return. “Yeah, seems they’ve got everything figured out.”

“But sensei! They said it was a trap! They said Lord Sugura promised our lord to them, and then they were going to take Lord Sugura after he caught our lord for them!”

For the first time that evening, Jiro didn’t know what to say. Sugura was a trusted ally, if the meeting was a trap their lord would be helpless to avoid it before it was too late. Thinking quickly, Jiro recalled what he knew of the upcoming meeting- there wasn’t much, but he knew it was happening in the next few days. This made it twice as important that they get across the river border as fast as possible, but recent rains had made it fast and deep, and there were few places they could cross safely unless…

“Sensei! We have to warn them!”

Jiro patted the boy on the shoulder to reassure him. “You bet we will, lad.” Then he motioned towards the horses. “Saddle up and hang on, young lord. This ride is about to get a lot rougher!”


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The Inuyama Rebellion- Part Eleven

Art by Brushmen

The torches which lined the courtyard of the Kurokawa clan’s summer residence had been lit and a small stage had been erected. Upon it the great lord of the Kurokawa sat on a stool in resplendent robes fanning himself casually from the heat of the summer evening. His vassals and lords were gathered around him as though prepared for an audience, or a trial. Nearby, a number of servants stood, gossiping quietly- waiting to see what would happen next.

Armoured footsteps sounded in the night air, and five samurai dressed for war dragged two people to stand before the lord, an older man dressed in servant’s clothes, and a young boy in the finery of a noble son. The samurai shoved them down onto their knees, bowed to their lord, and took a step back.

“Good evening, your lordship.” Jiro said as he bowed politely, then rose and nodded to the man standing next to the clan leader. “Gempei-san.”

Taro, for his part, looked around in wide-eyed worry, and was shocked to see his elder brother standing nearby- free.

“Brother!” He gasped. “What are you doing here?”

“Not being foolish like you are.” Came Masahiro’s answer, and under his younger brother’s pained gaze he turned away.

“Gempei,” asked Lord Kurokawa to his guest. “Do you know this man?”

“Yes, my lord. We have crossed swords many times. This is the samurai Yamaguchi Jiro who serves Lord Inuyama.”

The lord thought a moment, and then tapped his fan shut into his hand as he remembered. “Ahhh. Yes! Well, that is a stroke of luck. I have heard your name many times, Yamaguchi-san. You are the fencing instructor to the Inuyama clan, are you not?”

“As you say, my lord.” Jiro agreed. “I’ve taught them how to fight for two generations and they’ve never failed to take a Kurokawa head in battle.”

That got Jiro a sharp crack to the back of the head from one of the guards behind him.

“Watch your tongue, dog!”

Lord Kurokawa motioned his man back. “Enough of that, Captain. I would hate to harm such a distinguished guest.” Then after a moment he added. “I have heard your Kirekusa fencing style from my warriors, and I would like to see it myself to judge its worthiness. Could you perhaps give us a demonstration?”

That brought a wry smile to Jiro’s face. “Well, I would be happy to, my lord. Merely give me a sword and I will give you a full demonstration of its abilities.”

Kurokawa laughed at that. “Oh. I’m sure you would, swordsman. I’m sure you would.  However…You! Servant!”

As he said the words, he gestured at the closest of the servants who were watching the proceedings. A tall, muscular young man with a slightly dull expression whose eyes suddenly shot open in surprise. After a moment’s hesitation, he gestured towards his nose.

“M-me? My lord?”

“Don’t just stand there, servant.” Barked Gempei.  “Come here!”

“Y-yes master,” answered the lad as he shuffled forward with his head down. “Of course master.”

“Go and fetch a wooden bokken from the training hall.” Ordered the Lord.

“Of course, honoured lord.” The servant answered, giving a quick bow before running off.

Then Kurokawa turned and looked at his guest. “Gempei, when he returns would you help our fencing instructor show me how he fights?”

Gempei gave a quick bow. “With pleasure.”

“Oh, and Gempei?”

“Yes, my lord?”

“You may use your real sword.”

*                      *                      *

What the Lord of the Kurokawa did not know, however, was that the servant he had selected to fetch the wooden practice sword in fact had no idea where the training hall was, since he was in fact not a servant of the household at all.

Masato was, however, in an extreme state of panic.

“What am I going to do? What am I going to do?” He babbled to himself. “They’re going to kill sensei!” He stumbled along blindly, desperately trying to think of a way out of this situation and berating himself for being so stupid. His master was going to die, and it would be his fault!

So lost in thought he was, that Masato ran right into another servant coming the other direction, nearly knocking the man down.

“Hey you! Where do you think you’re going?” Cursed the man, regaining his balance. He was a middle aged man, probably one of the senior attendants. Masato instantly feared he’d lost all his chances and bowed quickly to apologize.

“Oh, sorry master. Our lord asked me to fetch him a bokken from the training hall and I was rushing to get it.”

The man gave him a long look, obviously trying to recognise him and failing. Finally he shrugged. “He did, eh? Then why’re you going that way? The training hall is the other way! That’ll take you to the storerooms.”

“The storerooms?” Masato said reflexively. “Oh. I’m so sorry, our lord gave me an order and I was too worried about following it.”

“You’re new, aren’t you?” The retainer brushed off his robe, then added menacingly. “Better calm down, boy. Get distracted around here and you’ll lose your head.”

That brought Masato, who was trying to get out of this conversation as quickly as he could, up short, and he stared at the elder servant a minute.

“I-I’m sorry, what did you just say?” He said with sudden interest as a candle was lit in the back of his head.

The servant shook his head in disgust. “Are you deaf as well as dumb? I said keep your eye on your job!”

“Yes,” Masato answered thoughtfully as an idea came blazing to light in his brain. “Of course. Thank you. I’ll follow your advice.”

“See that you do. Now, training hall’s that way. Try not to get lost again.”

“Oh, you bet I won’t!” Masato answered with determination, then turned and ran the way the man had pointed.

He knew what he needed to do to save sensei- now all he needed was time.


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The Inuyama Rebellion- Part Ten

Art by Brushmen

In the main hall of the summer residence, to the sound of musical accompaniment a small party was taking place. Three men, two older and one in his prime, were being hosted by the lord of the Kurokawa.

“Well said, Gempei! Well said!” Lord Kurokawa laughed, having just been impressed by the wit of the youngest of the three- a hawk faced samurai with a large nose and small eyes.

“Thank you, Lord Kurokawa.” Gempei smiled, raising his cup of sake to their host. “A toast to this fine meal you have prepared for us! I have rarely had venison so tender!”

In the nearby line of servants, Masato fidgeted around nervously. He had been fearful at first, then impressed, for he had rarely gotten to see a meeting between lords in the Inuyama castle, and now finally he was somewhat bored and just wanted to find a way to get away. The problem was that every time he thought about moving, it earned him a harsh look from that devil of a woman in charge! What could he do?

“No, Gempei. It is too much. I do not deserve such praise.” Said the lord modestly. “It is you who have rendered us a great service. With a single stroke we will be rid of two enemies at our doorstep.”

Suddenly Masato was no longer bored. He was interested. Very interested.

The samurai shook his head. “It is merely a small service. Lord Inuyama has been foolish in his quest for allies, and Lord Sugura is equally foolish. I merely enticed Sugura to capture Inuyama for us, and then once Inuyama is out of the way, dealing with Sugura will be child’s play. Inuyama thinks his ally will help him defeat us, but we have turned his ally against him.”

The men toasted and laughed again as Masato struggled to breathe. His lord was walking into a trap! He had to find a way to escape, to tell Jiro!

But, before Masato could make any attempt to leave, there was a sudden commotion at the end of the hall, and the door was thrust open. A young man around Masato’s age in a fine yellow-lined red silk kimono rushed in and threw himself down in a bow before the lord and his assembled guests.

“My lord, I must speak with you!”

The three guests looked at the teenager with surprised curiosity, but Kurokawa was merely annoyed.

“Ahh, young Masahiro.” He said, recognising the teen. “I didn’t summon you, boy. Leave us.”

“I will be happy to, my lord.” The lad said quickly. “But first, I must tell you that the Inuyama are planning a rebellion!”

Kurokawa raised an eyebrow at that. “Indeed?”

“Yes, my lord. They will declare their independence soon. Please, let me say now that I wish to stand with the Kurokawa. I believe you are far wiser than my father, and will accept any use you have for me.”

Masato gasped, this was even worse than he could have feared. Lord Inuyama’s own firstborn had turned against his father!

As Kurokawa considered his reply, Gempei looked the young man over. “This is Inuyama’s son? He’s a well spoken lad.”

“He is.” Agreed the lord of the Kurokawa. “I will consider your words, boy. However, before we discuss this further- tell me how you came to this knowledge here in my home?

Masahiro produced a sheet of paper, which he offered before him with both hands, his own head still bowed in respect.  “A messenger brought this letter, my lord. One of my father’s samurai- he waits with my younger brother.”

“Ahh, it seems we have a guest then.” Kurokawa smiled. “We should greet him properly. Send some men to get him and I will show him the hospitality I believe he deserves.”


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The Inuyama Rebellion- Part Nine

Masato had no idea where he was.

He just hoped it wasn’t the women’s quarters as he didn’t feel much like becoming a eunuch.

The hallways here all seemed to look the same, and he had begun to feel he was going in circles as he made his way around the large compound- peeping here, listening there- hoping that he’d find some trace of the boys.

Now, as he turned a corner he reflexively stepped to the side and bowed his head as one of the head servants led a line of men and women carrying food trays past him. He’d already done this respectful pose a dozen times during the night, and was amazed by how well it worked, and how little the servants here seemed to know each other.

But this time, as he listened to the woman in green bark orders to her charges, he also heard another sound- a moan. He glanced up just in time to see a servant carrying a large steaming pot start to drop to his knees, the pot only saved at the last moment by two of the others grabbing it.

The Servant Collapses

Art by Brushmen

The woman in charge threw up her arms. “Oh great! Another one’s sick! At this rate our lords will have to serve themselves.” Then she pointed to one of the other companions. “You! Take him back to the servant’s quarters.”  As the man bowed and complied, she stood there thinking, and then looked around, spying Masato cringing nearby. “You there!”

“M-me?”

“Yes.” She answered, stepping up to look at him carefully. “You’re dressed as a kitchen aide, do  you know how to serve?”

Masato tried not to make eye contact, keeping his eyes respectfully down. “Well…ahh…I’ve seen it done, but…”

The head servant nodded and turned away. “Good enough. Good enough! Grab that pot and follow us!” Then, as she fell back into position at the front of the line, she noticed Masato hadn’t moved. “Well? What’s wrong? You not hear me? Move it if you value your skin!”

Unable to see any way out, Masato bowed and quickly dashed over to take up the pot by its handles. It wasn’t especially heavy, but he could see how it might be a bit much for a sick person. As he hoisted it up, he leaned over to the servant watching him.

“Hey, uhh…We’re not going to serve the Inuyama princes, are we?” He said with his usual subtlety.

The servant looked at him as if he’d fallen off the roof. “What? Those brats? Of course not!”

“Oh”, said Masato, disappointed.

“Hurry up! We’re serving the clan lord himself.”

*                             *                             *

In Taro’s room, the two sons of Lord Inuyama knelt facing the elder samurai, having just finished reading the letter that Jiro had brought with him from their mother.

“I see,” said Masahiro, considering.

“So…father really wants us to come back?” Taro said to Jiro, wide-eyed with excitement. “Brother, did you hear that?!?! I told you father misses us! He…” Then he stopped abruptly as he saw the deep conflict on his brother’s face. “Elder Brother, what’s wrong?

Masahiro shook his head and forced a smile. “Nothing, Taro. It’s just a surprise.” Then he turned to look at the samurai and touched his head to the ground. “Jiro-san, you traveled far to bring us this news. Thank you.”

Jiro bowed deeply in return. “Think nothing of it. It was my duty, young lord.” Then added- “Now, I am afraid we must hurry. Please gather your things so we may leave tonight.”

“Of course,” Masahiro smiled, rising to his feet. “Jiro, please help Taro gather his things, my brother is only eight and a bit slow.”

“Of course, young lord.” Jiro answered, sharing a smile with Taro.

As he reached the door, Masahiro peeked outside cautiously, and then looked back to the two of them. “I’ll return shortly. My room is nearby.” And he left.

After his brother was gone, Taro immediately jumped up and began rushing around the room packing. Although, Jiro noted, much of what he considered important was already well organized in various bags, as though he’d been planning for this night for some time. He wasn’t so much packing as getting everything together.

“If I may speak, young master.” Jiro asked, concerned. “The young lord doesn’t seem very happy about going back.”

“What?” Said Taro absentmindedly, rooting through a closet. “What? Oh. Don’t worry, brother’s just unhappy because he likes some girl here. He wants to go home just as much as I do. Can you pass me that bag? I want to bring some scrolls.”

[Image by Brushmen]


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The Inuyama Rebellion- Part Eight

In another corner of the estate, a boy lay on his stomach on the bamboo tatami floor of his room- next to him an inkpot and before him a sheet of paper. In flowing strokes, his brush gently drew out the kanji characters, pausing every so often while he struggled to remember a stroke here, or a dash there in the Chinese way of writing. He was young, not more than eight seasons, but the intense gaze on his face showed a thoughtfulness that many had commented was beyond his years.

So intent was he on his writing, he failed to notice the door slide open and shut, or the soft approaching footsteps, until suddenly the paper upon which he had worked so hard was swiftly snatched out from before him as if by a sharp wind.

“And what is this?” Asked the new arrival- a teenager almost twice the boy’s age.

“Hey! Give it back!” The boy protested, jumping to his feet and grabbing vainly for the paper as the other simply turned and kept it up out of his reach.

“Dear father, I hope you are well. Masahiro and I miss you and mother greatly, and hope that we will be able to see you soon.” Read the teen, then stopped to shake his head and look at his younger brother. “I knew it. You’re writing another letter to father asking him to let us come home.” Then he sighed and added- “Taro, why don’t you just give up?”

Snatching back his letter, Taro gripped it protectively. “I can’t. If father knows how much we want to come back he’ll think of something. You read his letter. He misses us.”

“Yes, misses us so badly he sent us here in the first place.” Masahiro commented. “Taro, we’ve been over this a hundred times- this is our home. The Kurokawa are our people, and you had better start accepting it.”

“D-Don’t you want to go back?” The boy protested, clearly not agreeing.

Masahiro shook his head. “And why would I want to do that? Taro, who do you think would win in a fight between our clan and the Kurokawa?”

“Why, our clan of course, brother!” The child said proudly. “The Inuyama!”

Masahiro sighed again, giving his brother a look of sympathy. “Taro. Taro, you’ve got to forget these dreams of yours. You’ve seen the armies of the Kurokawa- how they fight. Do you really think our clan has any chance against their samurai? The Inuyama have no future, sooner or later the Kurokawa will crush them.”

“No! Don’t say that! Father is strong!”

The teen smiled sardonically. “If father is so strong, why are we here? Why did he put his future in the hands of his enemies? No Taro-chan, we’re on our own. Stop thinking in terms of our blood and start thinking with your head. We’ve got to do what we can to get into the Kurokawa while there’s still time, before our father does something stupid.”

The boy looked at his elder brother for a moment, and then a light seemed to come on in his eyes. “Emiko!  You’re talking about Emiko-chan!”

There were times Taro was far too perceptive for his age, and this was one of them. Slightly embarrassed, Masahiro was about to deny it when suddenly he heard a noise outside their room and quickly motioned Taro to be quiet.

Just as he’d done this, a knock came at the door. Masahiro’s heart leapt into his mouth and be began to panic. Had someone heard his brother’s treasonous talk? Would they be punished? What should they do- they couldn’t just pretend there was no-one there.

As Masahiro struggled to think, the low knock came again.

Finally, he made a decision. Masahiro called out “enter”.

The wood-panelled door slid open to reveal…

“A servant,” said Taro, peering past his bother at a man bowing deeply in the open door.

Suddenly slightly embarrassed by his own cowardly thoughts, Masahiro naturally wanted someone to take it out on. “What do you want old man?!” He barked.

The old servant with the tied back silver hair finally raised his head, smiling at the uncertain pair.

“Young masters, your humble servant Jiro brings you greetings from home.”


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