Daidoji Masahiro was too involved in his work at the forge to hear any of the sounds outside. All he could hear was the roar of the fire and the repeated clang of the hammer against the red hot steel. His first indication that there was trouble was his assistant looking away instead of at his work.
"Sounds like trouble outside, Daidoji-sama," his assistant said, peering towards the door. Masahiro could tell the young man was torn between his duty of staying to help Masahiro and his curiosity at what was making the noises.
Masahiro could now make out the noises of horses and angry shouting. Either a horse was going crazy at the stable or they were under attack.
"Go check it out," Masahiro instructed as he started putting his tools down in a safe manner that would allow him to go right back to work after dealing with whatever awaited outside of the forge.
"We're under attack, Daidoji-sama!" His assistant had opened the front door and was looking towards the rest of the village.
"Bandits, Mantis, or Lion?" Masahiro asked while putting his light blue kimono top back on and reaching for his sword. Honestly it would be strange for there to be a Lion attack this close to the coast, but with the recent uptick in hostility it couldn't be ruled out.
"Band-" his assistant started to shout, but the word was cut short by an arrow sticking out of his throat. The throat is a small target and you have to be trained well to hit it. Either that was an accidental hit, or at least one of these bandits was a ronin.
Masahiro slipped his sword into his obi and headed towards the door. He drew his sword out and stuck it through the doorway while still standing inside. An arrow struck the door right where he would have been had he walked out behind his sword. As soon as the arrow hit Masahiro leapt over his fallen assistant and out into the street in front of his forge.
The archer was on foot and at least 30 feet away. Too far to charge without taking at least one arrow. He had a katana in his obi as well as the quiver of arrows on the other hip. The man's clothing was dirty and grey and Masahiro couldn't make out any clan or family markings as he ran for the cover of the next closest building. It was a good distance but Masahiro made it around the corner just as another arrow wizzed past his head.
Masahiro took in the scene as he surveyed the village. His village. The Iron River Village was barely large enough to warrant a full-time samurai to run it. To many samurai such a holding would be nearly insulting. Masahiro, though, loved it. It required very little administration and left him plenty of time to work in the forge. He could also use some of the swords he made to pay taxes, leaving more food for his people. Food that they barely had enough of as it was. Iron River Village was near enough to the coast that it had been nearly flattened in the tsunami and most of its fields were destroyed. The bandits were here to take what little they still had.
What the bandits didn't count on was Masahiro. Born and raised a Daidoji and trained in the Kakita Academy. Trained as a swordsmith, sure, but the Kakita trained their students to excel in everything that they did. That included combat.
The forge was on the edge of the village so all Masahiro could see was running villagers. The sound of horses and screams of pain came from nearer the village center.
Aiming to go around the archer and approach from the rear, Masahiro ran around the building he was using as cover and continued on past it to another building. As he prepared to circle the ronin archer, Masahiro heard the sound of hoofbeats to his right. The ronin would have to wait. Masahiro only hoped that he wouldn't kill too many villagers while Masahiro dispatched the other bandits.
There were three bandits on horseback charging through the streets, all armed with spears. None were true yari that would be wielded by samurai. No, these were the spears of peasant bandits.
Masahiro found a large crate near the back of a building and used it to jump on the building's roof. He crept carefully over the building towards the charging horsemen. As they passed by Masahiro jumped, timing his leap perfectly to land directly behind the last rider. He slit the man's throat quickly and dumped him off the saddle.
The second rider was right in front of him and charging towards a family with a young child, attempting to run away. Masahiro swung his horse to the right. This put him on his enemy's strong side, but also between the rider and the family. Masahiro would have to deal with the martial disadvantage if he wanted to save the villagers. As he came up to even with the rider he moved the katana to his left hand and plunged it into his enemy's side, puncturing at least one vital organ.
The bandit screamed in pain and glared at Masahiro, confusion replacing pain on dirt covered face. The horse that had once bore his ally was now being ridden by a Crane samurai wielding a katana in his left hand. The confusion was short lived though as Masahiro pulled his sword back out and pushed the man off his steed.
Two down, at least two to go.
A few villagers had armed themselves with farming tools and other personal weapons and come out to aid in their own defense. The third rider was circling some of those villagers not too far away.
Masahiro looked at a nearby villager who was working to ensure his most recently dispatched foe was truely dead and asked for his weapon. It was a simple pitchfork, but would serve Masahiro's purpose.
He took the implement in his right hand and spurred his horse forward. As he closed on the remaining rider he gave a shout to get his attention and hurled the pitchfork through the air at him. The farm tool was not designed to be thrown and the bandit easily avoided it, but doing so opened him to an attack from one of the villagers. A scyth like weapon pierced his side and he was pulled from his mount. He disappeared in a swarm of villagers like a piece of bread dropped into a koi pond.
Masahiro didn't stop to watch the man die, however. He had to find that ronin archer.
He stopped and listened, waiting to hear the sounds of death. He heard a scream towards the north end of town, the opposite end from his forge, but the area where they store the rice. Hopefully at least a few of his villagers thought to go there first to defend it. It was the obvious target. He took off on his newly acquired horse as fast as he could navigate the small village streets.
The large door to the storage building was wide open. There were no locks on it so nothing was broken. Directly adjacent to the open door sat a large cart with a horse harnessed to it. The cart was partially filled with barrels of his village's rice. Three bandits were fighting with villagers between him and the cart, and one bandit was still hastily dragging a barrel from the building.
Masahiro gave a bellowing shout and charged the bandit thieves. The three fighting all stopped, their eyes widening in fear at the sight of his approach. The villagers, without even looking back, peeled sideways, making a clear path for him.
By the time he reached them the bandits had come to their senses and prepared to fight. He hit them like a crashing wave, knocking the center bandit prone and sending the other two flying backwards to either side of him. He rode past them, his eyes on a different prize. He circled the cart, decapitating the bandit who had been moving the rice with a single swipe of his blade. He came even with the horse attached to the cart and swung his sword at the harness, severing it neatly. He slapped the horse's rear with the flat of his blade and it took off, breaking the remaining harness attachment as it sped away.
The three remaining bandits approached him, having regained their bearings after his charge. He knew that while on horseback he had some advantage, but mounted combat was not his strong suit and it made it harder for him to reach them with just his katana whereas they were using spears that could easily reach him. As they closed the distance he wheeled the horse around and dismounted on the opposite side, leaving the large beast between him and his foes.
They were clearly not trained in group tactics as they failed to fan out to surround him. Instead, they had bunched up, limiting their own movement and making it easier for Masahiro to attack the two flanking bandits without fear of the others getting a clean strike at him.
He moved towards the rear of his horse and pushed it, moving it's massive hindquarters away from him and towards his enemies. He still had the cart to his back and needed to give himself more space. As soon as he had gained the necessary ground and grouped the bandits even more tightly together he sprang around the horse and attacked.
The first bandit was strangely surprised by his attack. More signs that his attackers were untrained. He almost felt bad about having to kill them. They were probably just hungry and desperate, but they had chosen to attack his people, so kill them he would.
His sword came down at the point that the bandit's neck met his shoulder and travelled clear through the man's ribs before exiting the soft tissue of the stomach above the opposit hip. Masahiro quickly reversed his katana, bringing it back up along the same angle, but this time aimed at the center bandit's inner thigh. The sword met flesh and a spray of blood soaked the ground where Masahiro had been standing only seconds before.
But Masahiro couldn't stop and stay in one place. Stagnation was death, especially when fighting multiple enemies, untrained though they may be. He stepped over the smaller portion of the first bandit's corpse as the middle man fell, clutching his leg. He wasn't dead yet, but would be soon and was out of the fight regardless. The third bandit had wisely stepped back when the fighting started, and now brandished a worn but still deadly spear at Masahiro's face.
Aiming at your opponent's face is the move of either a novice fighter, or a well trained warrior. Done correctly it's a fight ender, done incorrectly and, well it's still a fight ender but in the other direction. If this bandit was anything like the others then he was a novice fighter.
Masahiro guessed correctly and the bandit thrust for his face fully committed. Masahiro blocked the thrust up and to the right as he stepped forwards and to his left, towards his opponent's back. He whipped his sword around and swung down at his enemy's front leg, severing it at the knee. The bandit's one remaining leg buckled beneath him and he fell to the blood soaked ground, staring at his own severed leg lying there next to him.
Masahiro brought his katana's tip up and through the man's throat, stopping his death cry before it began. He ripped it back out and the man fell, face down on the ground.
The man whose leg he'd cut earlier had stopped screaming and was attempting to crawl away. Masahiro walked back towards the village, stabbing the crawling man as he did.
He'd taken care of the horsemen and the people stealing the rice, it was unlikely that there were other bandits. Tactically they'd split up in a predictable and intelligent manner. Horses were sent to run around and cause chaos while the rest quietly went for the actual goal. That just left the leader, who seemed to have gone straight to the forge. He must have known that Masahiro was the only samurai in the village and that he spent most of his time in the forge.
He was Masahiro's next target.
Masahiro sheathed his sword and picked up the best looking of the spears. This was a Daidoji village, meaning that it was built for defense. One of it's most useful features was that the buildings were laid out in such a way that it was possible to travel quickly from one end of the village to the other entirely by rooftop. The roofs of the particular buildings along those paths were also reinforced to allow this, if you stepped on the wrong roof you were more likely to fall through than travel across.
Masahiro jumped onto the roof of the nearest such building and ran. He made his way towards the center of the village and paused once he got there. Listening again for the sounds of violence that would point him towards his quarry. The noise he heard though, was not that of violence, but that of someone else walking on the rooftops.
He snapped his attention towards the sound, which came from a roof two buildings over in the direction of the forge. The ronin stood there, glaring at him with a hate he wasn't sure he deserved. Was this attack actually personal rather than a simple theft attempt? Masahiro stared at the ronin, trying to place him.
The man was gaunt, it was obvious that he was hungry. His dark hair was tied back in a simple knot to keep it out of his face. A face with a sharp nose set between his small, dark, hate filled eyes. Masahiro didn't recognize him, but then again, he wasn't much of a people person.
The ronin pulled an arrow from his quiver and quickly knocked it. Masahiro ran over the ridge of the roof and down the other side as he moved to get closer to the ronin. He heard the arrow hit the roof, but didn't stop to look at it. He jumped one building over, keeping the ridgeline between him and the ronin, and turned towards the ronin's last position.
Masahiro risked a quick peek over the edge to make sure the ronin hadn't moved. He had, but towards the roof he had last seen Masahiro on. He was now only one roof away. Masahiro let the ronin run past his position and slipped over the ridge silently. He steadied himself and threw the shabby spear at the ronin.
He turned and tried to knock the spear away. He succeeded in keeping the spear from embedding itself in his back, but also lost his grip on his bow. Masahiro had the opportunity now to close the distance directly instead needing to sneak and circle his enemy. He drew his katana and charged across the rooftops. The ronin stared for a moment, then turned and ran.
Masahiro had hoped for a stand up fight once the bow was out of his hands, but what else could be expected from an honorless ronin than to turn and run from a fight. He continued to give chase, determined to end this particular ronin's life. The ronin tried to use the corner of a non-reinforced roof to quickly change directions, but the wood cracked and gave way beneath him. The ronin stumbled and fell from the roof, landing in the middle of a street corner. Masahiro deftly jumped down onto the street roughly ten feet away from the ronin, facing him.
"Who are you?" he demanded.
"You don't need my name. Just think of me as an honorless scum, for that is all you will ever see me as regardless," the ronin snarled.
"It is true that you've done little to raise my opinion of you, but you could still die with some honor if you choose."
"That decision was taken from me when my family was cast out. Now are we going to talk or are you going to die?" the ronin said, yelling the last few words as he drew his own sword.
Masahiro let out a disappointed sigh and raised his sword to grip it in both hands.
"Then let's end it," he said.
To his credit, the ronin didn't charge in recklessly. He raised his sword and shuffled forwards until their swords were nearly touching. Masahiro watched, studying the man's motions, looking for a weakness. He was well trained. He moved carefully, not exposing himself to attack or leaving himself off balance. Masahiro waited for his opening.
It came when the ronin's eyes shifted just slightly to look behind Masahiro. He wasn't sure what the man was looking at, but that didn't matter. Masahiro knocked the ronin's blade aside and thrust his sword towards the man's chest. The ronin's attention returned quickly and he pushed his sword against Masahiro's as he twisted just enough that the blade missed.
Masahiro brought his katana low, sweeping under the ronin's guard and aiming for his legs. The ronin's blade followed Masahiro's and pushed it harmlessly past his thighs. The ronin quickly snapped his blade up and thrust for Masahiro's gut. Masahiro slapped the thrust aside and the ronin used the momentum to whip his own sword around and up, positioning to bring it down on Masahiro's skull.
Masahiro stepped to his right, bringing the sword up above his head just in case his movement was too slow. The ronin's blade passed harmlessly down where Masahiro had just been. His movement had been fast enough to avoid the sword, but it put him right in the path of the ronin's left foot as he launched a vicious side kick to Masahiro's stomach.
Masahiro doubled over and stepped back to create space while he regained his breath. The ronin turned to face him as Masahiro straightened.
The two warriors faced each other, electricity crackling between them. Something about this fight seemed very personal to Masahiro. He thought back over the fight, which so far had only lasted a few seconds. The ronin's fighting style seemed familiar and he had known that he could run on the roofs of the buildings.
His thoughts were interrupted by the ronin's next attack. He must have noticed Masahiro's loss of focus. The ronin started to strike straight down for Masahiro's head. As Masahiro brought his sword up to block the strike the ronin pulled his blade back towards himself and thrust into the opening created by his feint.
It was not a move Masahiro had been taught at the Kakita Academy, but he had seen it before. This man, an honorless ronin, had once been trained by the Daidoji.
The realization allowed Masahiro's head to clear and his training fully took over. He sidestepped slightly and parried the thrust to his left. He let go of the handle of his katana with his left hand and shifted forwards, striking under the ronin's arms in a horizontal cut aimed to spill the man's bowels.
Both men stopped moving. The sound of blood splattering on the ground told them both that the fight was over. The ronin touched his stomach with his left hand and slowly raised it to his eyes. Blood covered his shaking fingers. He dropped to his knees, defeated and dying slowly.
Masahiro stepped to the fallen man's side. He paused momentarily, making his decision. He raised his sword and decapitated the man quickly, ending his suffering and giving him the closest thing to an honorable death that the ronin could have hoped for.
As the head rolled on the street the hair knot on the back of his head fell loose revealing bright white tips. Masahiro's suspicions were confirmed. The ronin had been a Crane, possibly even a Daidoji, and had been cast out of the clan. Judging from the length of his hair it had only been a few years since it had been dyed white like Masahiro's.
The villagers had finally found the site of Masahiro's battle with the ronin and slowly approached.
"Get the burakumin to clear the bodies. There's some rice barrels on a cart near the storehouse, see that they get put back." He scooped up the ronin's sword from where it had dropped. "I'll be in the forge," he said as he walked past the villagers.
A single tear rolled down his cheek.