Welcome back, all you readers. Sorry I didn't get it up faster, like I said I would. I start school in two weeks, but I want to get chapter 11 up for all of you before that time comes, and I will try. Still, I don't want this to deter the number of reviews I get. So, please, give me plenty of reviews. The more I get, the more motivated I'll be to write. I notice that many of you who have this story marked as a favorite or an alert still haven't given me a single review. C'mon, don't be shy. I want to know what you all think.
Anyway, here you go. Enjoy.
Being Alive
Chapter 10
A dirty, weather-beaten hand yanked an iron stake out of the ground, and threw it back into a large, rugged backpack. The owner of the hand sighed, wiped the morning sweat off his face, and yanked his tent up off the ground before beginning to roll it back up. All the while, he listened to the sounds of the early songbirds as they chatted through the morning mist.
It had been three days since he had set out from the hidden village where he had taken his former chain gang mate. And, though he had felt a bit down leaving them all behind, he was back to his normal self a day later. He had asked Gorobei how far Kyoto was for a reason: he was urgent to find more leads on the little iron ball he kept in the pocket of his fatigue. After the old man himself had given him one lead, Dante only became more motivated. And he had set out west, heading for the city where he had spent the first half of his youth, hoping to find something that would put him on the right path to what Gorobei had called 'Tataraba'.
What the elder man had told him wasn't much more than a rumor, but it still gave him renewed hope. With any luck, he would be able to find out just where the little iron ball came from. After he found the place, he didn't know. But the Oracle had told him that everything would come clear then. He was living on half-hearted hope.
His journey, however lonesome, was certainly not boring. Over the past three days, he'd easily been able to keep himself busy. Fueled by his last two clashes with civilization, discounting the village, he wanted to be prepared for anything. He sorted through his equipment, finding uses for nearly everything; he field-stripped his guns one by one, cleaning them before putting them back together; he counted his ammunition, gathering as much into magazines and bandoliers as possible; he made sure his food supply was balanced, especially concerning the food the villagers had lent him; and he even found time to wash his clothes, which were becoming a bit less comforting over time.
But he spent most of his free time preparing for what he thought he'd be needing most: hand-to-hand combat. Each morning, before eating, he'd go through short sessions of push-ups, sit-ups, and basic stretching; then he'd practice the basic kata he'd learned while training in Japanese martial arts; he'd go through them step by step, continuing until he was satisfied. The best moments of his daily practices, however, were when he drew the katana he had received from Gorobei. When he was five years old, he'd been introduced to the wooden sword in the dojo run by his foster father. And, over a few years, he learned to use it rather well. Although he didn't get to use a real sword very often, he still knew how to handle one, and began by practicing the same basic moves he had learned in the past. He practiced every swing, maneuver, and block he could remember, over and over again until he was satisfied.
When he wasn't practicing, Dante spent plenty of time cleaning and examining his sword. Each day, after the daily training was done, he would dig into his backpack, and find the supplies he normally used to clean his firearms. Sitting cross-legged, with the other supplies spread out in front of him, he would slowly shine the sword with a small cloth. Inch by inch, he cleaned it, wiping away any marks that were left from the day's training. After he was satisfied with his work, he would examine the blade, admiring every last inch of it. To him, it was more than a weapon; it was a thing of beauty. When he was trained in the way of the sword, he learned to treat the blade as an extension of his body. And now, he felt captivated by the mere sight of it: from the silver tip of the handle bearing the 'daringness' kanji, to the sharp, beautiful, deadly end of the blade. Every day he would find some time to spend with the gift the old man had given him.
As Dante tied the straps around his now-rolled-up tent, he looked off to his right, which was the direction he would be walking. Gorobei had said Kyoto was at least a week's walk away. If he was lucky, and if his compass wasn't misleading him, he could get there within another four days. It would require even more luck for him to actually find a lead in the nation's capital as well.
Sighing again, he swung his backpack over his shoulder, and began walking west, hoping to one day find his way to Kyoto.
Dante let out a happy sigh after sipping the last of his coffee from his canteen. He was real happy he had held onto the coffee grounds that he had found back at the crash site with all the other rations. Though it hadn't been easy, he had managed to scrap some coffee by using the rice pot, and filtering it with some bandages. It wasn't perfect, but was still enough to satisfy him.
Thank you, God, for letting me have these, he thought, throwing the remaining packages into his bag. And, after tossing in a few more supplies, he was back on the path once again. Wearing the green cloak Wakana had given him, as well as a red bandana around his head, he resumed walking across the dense Japanese landscape.
After traveling through a semi-thick forest for a few hours, he came to an enormous hill. Looking at it, he realized this would be a tough climb, and he started to wonder whether or not he should have grabbed a horse or something along the way to make his trip easier.
About a half-hour after he started climbing, he finally reached the top of the hill. Before he could even take a look down over the descent, he stopped in his tracks to catch his breath. He noticed his backpack was becoming very heavy, and he wondered just why the hell the army had given him so much equipment to begin with. Mason had been right: they didn't need half the stuff they had.
When he felt up to moving again, he rose his head back up, and gazed out over the hill. He saw that the hill was part of a much larger mountain, which descended into the valley surrounded by other mountains. And, far down in the valley, he could make out a tall sprout of black smoke, which was slowly ascending skyward into a huge mushroom cloud.
What the hell is that?, he asked himself. A forest fire? Or is it a village? Either way, he knew he had to keep moving, and began to descend the mountain.
After another half-hour or so, he emerged from the foliage to find the path going straight along a village. When he could see it clearly, he gasped in shock and awe. One area of the village was completely enveloped in inferno, resulting in the enormous smoke cloud. In the surrounding rice fields and other village areas, he saw battle flags stationed, and sometimes moving around throughout. And, all over the place, there were samurai. Near one of the main buildings, a huge battle between two whole lines of warriors was taking place. Although Dante was pretty far from the actual fighting, he could hear the swords clashing, as well as the screams of those who were no doubt dying.
Throwing his backpack on the ground, he dug his hand in, fishing out his sniper scope. He then stood at the edge of the path, putting his eye to the piece.
He could see them fighting in detail now. One group of samurai, wearing darker armor, seemed to be gaining the upper hand on the smaller group, which was struggling just to stay alive. Dante briefly focused on one samurai, who was ruthlessly fighting off several opponents with his sword, only to have his right leg be severed off from behind. He fell to the ground in pain, and the other samurai closed in, bringing down their blades for the disembowelment.
Dante brought the scope away in horror. His breathing became heavier as he tried to fathom what was happening. Suddenly, a deafening scream of a woman drew his attention away, to a stretch of rice paddies just down the path. A small group of villagers were fleeing across the fields, with a group of charging samurai and archers in hot pursuit. Bringing the scope to his eye again, he focused on them, stopping at the man at the back of the bunch as he stopped to ward off the nearest thug. He swung his sword pointlessly at the samurai, who easily cleaved the arm right off with a naginata blade. As the man fell to the ground, his attacker jammed his blade viciously into his gut, tearing out his entrails.
"This isn't even a battle," Dante said to himself as he brought the scope away again. "It's a fucking massacre!"
And that was when he heard some rustling from the woods behind him. Turning around, he saw a rather large group of samurai moving out from the thick bit of woods.
"Look up there! It's a warrior!" one of them shouted to his comrades.
One of the samurai pushed his way through the group, and raised his longbow, aiming an arrow right at the red-haired youth. "His head is mine!"
Dante barely had time to duck when the arrow came streaking his way. Falling to the ground, he watched as the arrow dug itself into a nearby tree. "Holy SHIT!" he yelled as he grabbed his bag, threw it over his shoulder, and tore down the path. Several subsequent arrows buzzed by him, each missing him by mere centimeters.
Trying desperately to think of what to do as he ran down the path, Dante noticed a rather big piece of shrubbery on the edge of the woods. Taking his bag in his arms, he hoisted it up, and tossed it into the bush while he was still running, and quickly dove after it. Breathing unevenly, and struggling to untangle himself from the branches of the bush, he moved to get his bag, and immediately pulled out his shotgun, and a bandolier of rounds. As he began shoving shells into the chamber, he heard the samurai running up the path.
"Where'd he go?" he heard one yell.
"He definitely came this way…keep looking! I'm gonna have that boy's head on my mantle!"
When he loaded in the last round, he pumped the slide back, and moved aside a piece of the bush in order to get a look at the group of thugs following him. When he moved a bit too far on his knees, he fell forward, causing a rustle sound that was easily noticed by the samurai.
A head of one of the men shot up, and he pointed right in Dante's direction. "There! In the bushes!"
As they all ran closer to the shrubs, Dante retreated back into the bush, grasping his gun tight. They'd be on him in no time- what the hell was he going to do?
The group stopped in front of the bushes, each of them drawing a bow or a blade. A large, barrel-chested samurai, apparently the leader of the bunch, walked up to the shrubbery, drew his long katana, and pointed it directly at the bush.
"Come out, boy!" he yelled, a sinister grin covering his face. "If you make it quick, we'll only take your head, and leave the rest of your body intact!" This earned a round of howling laughter from his minions.
The laughter was immediately silenced by a loud bang sound in the air, and the samurai was thrown backwards by an unseen force. He hit the ground forcefully, and skidded backwards. The others scattered around in confusion, watching as their leader failed to rise. Their eyes then went to the bush, where the strangely-dressed warrior they had been chasing leapt out, grasping a weapon unknown to them.
Dante pumped back on the action, forcing the empty shell to be ejected out of the smoky chamber of his shotgun. He then turned to see another samurai aiming an arrow in his direction. Not thinking twice, he downed him with another blast from the shotgun. After blowing away a third samurai, he had to dodge a very close swing from a steely katana that came from right behind him. Turning to face the attacking thug, he tried to dodge several more swings before losing his balance, and falling back on his rear. Rolling away to avoid the downward strikes of five other swords, he leapt to his feet, and blocked a sword attack with his gun. The next movement, however, had knocked the weapon from his hands, and forced him to the ground. Crawling away as fast as he could, he reached his backpack, and grabbed the nearest weapon- his katana- and climbed to his feet before drawing it.
The five other samurai slowly began to close in, their swords drawn. As Dante held up his own blade, he felt his heart beating fast. Although he had trained with a sword before, he didn't have any actual experience like these men did. As he felt the sweat clinging to him, he also began to feel a slight burning sensation all up his right arm.
Shit…this ain't good. What am I gonna-
He moved fast enough to dodge a swing, but not fast enough to dodge an immediate kick from behind. Falling forward into the dirt once again, he rolled over to see five sword preparing to slash their way downwards, right into his body.
All of a sudden, his arm reacted. He yelled in pain as it grew, and moved his sword up right into the path of the five other blades. Before they could strike, and unseen force caused them all to be deflected back, and a tiny explosion of sparks sent them all flying backwards. Dante leapt to his feet, grasping his katana tightly with his right hand. He suddenly felt the urge to kill a few more men…and looked around at the group of samurai, his eyes beginning to take on a deep shade of red.
"Come on, who wants a piece of me? Eh?" he taunted them, motioning for them to attack.
One of the thugs leapt up, and charged the soldier, only to be sliced in two when the youth dodged his attack and counter-struck. Seeing their own opportunity, three other samurai came at him from different directions. They swung their blades furiously, but never landed a hit on the outlander, who severed a leg, two arms, and a head before they were all on the ground. He then abruptly reached into his side holster, drew his .45 automatic, and whipped around to meet the last thug, before putting three rounds into his gut from a foot away.
As the last of the samurai fell to the ground in a bloody heap, Dante turned to survey the damage, grasping his sword and his pistol in either hand. Eight bodies lay on the path before him, some of them in several pieces. And it was then that the demon from his arm began to fade. His eyes cleared up, and he saw the result of the carnage he had inflicted for real.
He fell to his knees, dropping both weapons in the process. "Holy fuck," he said through a heavy breath. "How the hell…how did I…"
"Dear Gods! What happened over there?"
Dante whipped his head around to see a couple of samurai at the top of the path, both of whom had apparently stopped in their tracks at the sight of the small massacre. Not even taking the time to think, he gathered all his things, and, swinging his backpack over his shoulder once again, took off down the path as fast as his legs would allow him.
Further up the path, he saw that the group of people he had seen fleeing the samurai earlier were now attempting to escape into the woods. Two of them had made it across the path, but a woman, who had tripped on her way up the hill, had fallen down, and was trying desperately to crawl away. She screamed as the samurai behind her hacked into the rice sack on her back, which had indeed saved her from the lethal blow.
Feeling a sudden surge of utmost anger, Dante stopped in his tracks, and gripped his 12-guage. "Hey, fuckhead!" And that was when the beast returned.
"Shit!" he yelled, letting his left hand off the gun in order to grasp his arm. "Not again!" But it was no use. The curse burned him like a wildfire, and his arm rose the shotgun into the air. Gripping it with both hands, he fired a round right at the samurai, who was about to swing down another blow. When the round connected, the thug's head literally exploded, with blood, brains, and bone fragments flying everywhere. The headless body then tumbled backwards, colliding with the others behind it, and sending them all careening down the hill.
Dante fell to his knees, clutching his arm as it thrashed around on it's own. The pain was almost unbearable. "Son of a bitch!" he cursed, nearly shoving his arm into the ground. "What the hell's up with my arm?"
"Hold it right there, demon!" He didn't get to stand up before a samurai on horseback galloped right up to him, pointing a spear in his direction. Although he managed to dive out of the way just in time to avoid the spear, he had to roll away quickly to avoid the next jab. Once again, his arm began to move on its own, and he reached down to grab his pistol. When he rolled onto his back, he raised the weapon, and fired off four more rounds, right into the upper torso of the samurai, who was raising his spear again. Four explosions of blood and innards spurted out his back, and he fell off his horse. Dante, not taking another moment to think, hoisted himself up onto the horse, grabbed the reins, and urged it forward. "C'mon! Yahh!" With that, the horse tore down the path at a brilliant speed, and Dante held on for the ride.
As the horse galloped down the dirt road, Dante noticed more horseback warriors riding alongside him, across the fields. "There he goes! Don't let him get away!" One of them yelled. In response, the one ahead of him rose his bow, aiming an arrow at the charging soldier.
The curse reacted once again, and, reaching behind his back, he drew his M-16, holding it like a pistol. Pointing it at the samurai, he screamed, "Back off, motherfucker!"
The thug responded by firing his arrow. Dante leaned back, the arrow missing him by an inch. His hand pulled the trigger, and a single round exploded from the barrel of the gun, the fire of the flash much brighter than usual. The round struck its target, and the horseman's head exploded in a mass of blood and brains. The headless body, however, remained on the horse as it continued to gallop down the path.
The other samurai watched as the outlander disappeared into the depths of the woods, then turned to see the headless body of his former comrade fall of its horse as they slowed down. Turning back to the woods, he could only utter one word.
"A demon…"
Running his hands through the tiny waterfall of the spring he had found, Dante scrubbed furiously to get the blood off his hands, which he had only discovered after he had ditched the horse. Not only was there blood all over his hands and arms, but also on his jungle fatigue. It had no doubt come from those men he had killed. But the goddamned curse had clouded his judgment. He still remembered almost every second of it, though.
He sighed in frustration as he tried to scrub the blood stains out of his shirt. "I can't fucking believe this," he said. "I must've killed at least ten guys, maybe more. And this goddamned arm," he said, looking at the ugly, maroon sea of blotches that covered his right arm, "it's got a mind of its own." He had removed the bandage to wash any remaining blood off. The entirety of flesh on his arm was like one giant scab. It looked worse than the worst burn, and, at times, felt worse too. He had seen some real bad wounds back in Vietnam, some reaching the point of downright horrifying. But none of them had looked as bad as this. I wish I could see the looks on those old vets if they saw this thing, he thought, chuckling.
As he took his first sip of the miso soup that he had just been poured, Jiko grimaced, fighting the urge to spit it back out. Sighing, he swallowed, and began to take more of it into his dry mouth. You couldn't argue when you were this hungry.
Today had not been a very good day for him at all. He was starting to regret making that deal with the Emperor. Aside from the fact that he would have to hand in his report on such short notice at the Imperial Palace, which was three days away in Kyoto, he had to move through these backwater villages, avoiding the men of the very lord he was working for. If Asano wasn't even careful enough to tell his men who was on his side, how was he supposed to operate in a land like this?
Goddamned Asano, he thought, taking another bitter mouthful of soup. It's his fault I'm stuck here like this. I have two more damned trips to make before I can get back on the job I've been waiting for. If I'm lucky, I might be able to reach Tataraba in two weeks. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a tiny little herb, dropped it into his soup, and began to mash it up. It's bad enough that I have to convince Asano to make the deal with those mercenaries. He suddenly shuddered, remembering what he had heard earlier. That's right…Komiya's going to be dealt with today…by him. Well, he shouldn't have disobeyed that order Asano passed down. Still, I don't know why they have to get his family, too… Lowering the bowl of lukewarm soup from his face, he gave the vender a look of dissatisfaction. "Are you selling soup, or donkey piss?" he asked sarcastically, squatting on the thick wooden stilts of his heavy geta sandals.
The hooded vendor shot him a look of irritation, and turned her head elsewhere. The monk went back to his soup, letting his ears wander about the shops lining the street and all the men talking amongst each other. When one conversation sparked his interest, he listened closer.
"-and I just looked up, and there he was, standing over a pile of dead samurai!"
"You say he was the one that slaughtered them all?"
"I don't know how he did it. He had some stick that shot fire, or something. It stopped those samurai in their tracks!"
"And he fought like a demon with that sword! Took at least five of them out, he did."
"Any idea where he comes from?"
"No idea. But, judging from the way he dresses, and that sword he carries, he could be a warrior from some other kingdom in the east."
"Some have said he's a demon from lands far off."
"Hmph!" Jiko chuckled to himself as continued to work on his thin soup. "You wanna see a demon, take a look at the thing you're sharing your bed with," he said under his breath. He had been one of the first to witness the outlander pass through the battle and execute his extraordinary powers on the group of samurai. Had he stayed longer, Jiko thought, he may very well have been able to take out the whole army of them. And it was this belief that allowed him to see the valuable potential in the pale-skinned youth's abilities. All he had to do was find the boy, and he would get the chance to exploit the value he possessed.
If I'm lucky, I can convince him to join me in my mission. Those hotheads at Tataraba would get a taste of their own medicine, and I can get my pile of gold a lot easier. Hell, if I wanted to, I could probably take on that prick Asano myself! He laughed to himself at these thoughts.
"Hey, look over there. It's him!" a man sitting in the next shop over said.
Jiko turned to glance in the same direction the other man was looking, and grinned at what he saw. Standing in front of a rice merchant, and surrounded by a rather large group of curious spectators, was none other than the young outlander himself. Tossing a rusty coin into the soup vendor's lap, he brought the bowl back to his face, and slurped down the rest of his soup. "I guess the Gods must like me today after all."
Dante tried to keep his attention on the rice vendor, who was filling his sack with a rather large amount, and not on the large crowd that was gathering. He knew that he would probably get some stares when he walked into town, so he donned the hood on his cloak. But he never imagined that this many people would be watching him. He watched as a mother ushered her young daughter back, further away from the soldier. Just what I need, he thought, to be treated like a monster again. It's not like these people could know about what happened back there…could they?
When he noticed the vendor holding up the full sack, he took it, and dug into his pocket, pulling out one of the many gold nuggets the Emishi had given him. "This should pretty much cover the cost" he said, placing the piece in her hand. He turned to walk away when he heard her suddenly bark at him.
"What is this? Just what the hell are you trying to pull?" She was holding the golden piece as if it were nothing but a lump of animal droppings. "If you can't pay with real money, then give me back my rice!" she snapped at him, shoving her open palm back at the youth.
Dante stood, completely lost at what to do. She clearly had no idea what she was holding. "What's your problem? Do you even know-"
"Excuse me, miss," someone in the crowd cut off, "but might I inspect that?"
Dante looked to where the voice had come from, and saw a rather strange sight. Standing in front of the rice vendor was a short, unusually plumpish man standing on wooden geta that had stilts coming out the bottom. The man was pudgy in both body and face, which had a large red wart bulging out from between his eyes and nose. In addition to the large parasol and basket he had slung over his back, he wore a dirty white tunic around his roundish gut, a red cloak around the tunic, and a red cap on his bald head. Dante hadn't seen the exact sort of uniform before, but it was close enough to that of a Buddhist monk. That meant he was no doubt a part of some secret order that operated in the area.
He watched as the monk took the nugget from the merchant, and brought it closer to his face. Squinting, he looked for a second before his eyes went wide. "Good Gods! You stupid woman, don't you know what this is? It's a lump of pure gold!" This garnered a surprised reaction from nearly everyone in the crowd. He held the lump out to show the woman, who just continued to look at it with a sour look. Grinning at her, he continued. "However, if it's coins you want, I'll pay for this lad's rice, and take this nugget off your hands. What do you say?" When she didn't give an immediate response, he spoke again. "Okay, I'll have to convince you." He rose his hand into the air for the whole crowd to see.
"My good people, is there a jeweler or a money changer amongst you all who can tell us how much this is worth?" The whole crowd was watching him now, gazing in awe at the tiny golden piece. Dante watched them all, noticing that their attention was no longer focused on him. This guy may be weird…but hey, as long as everyone's looking at him…might as well. He turned around and began walking away.
"No?" the monk asked before anyone even tried to raise a peep. "Well then, I guess I'll have to decide myself. Now, I may be just a monk, but I'm willing to bet that this golden nugget is worth at least three bags of rice. That's right, maybe even more!" The whole crowd was in uproar now. He turned to get a look at the outlander, who he saw was at least half way out of the village. "Hey, wait a minute, sir, where are you going?" he called out to him, taking a step away. But, as soon as tried to take a step, the rice merchant grabbed his hand. "Where are you going, give me back my gold!" she yelled, prying the gold from his pudgy hand.
Dante sighed in irritation as he walked down a path leading away from the village. "Jesus Christ," he said, "is it impossible for me to even get within a mile of another person without attracting a huge crowd that thinks I'm some sideshow freak?" As he continued to walk, he sighed again. "I guess not. Wonder who that guy back there was…"
Just as he was getting out of the village, he heard the sound of someone running up to him, along with that familiar voice he had heard only seconds before calling out to him. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the same monk running after him. Dante had no idea how he managed to run so fast on those stilted geta while carrying a heavy load, and manage to stay up. That doesn't look right…
"Hey, slow down!" the monk called out. "What's your hurry? You can't leave now, we've only just met!" When he caught up to the youth, he slowed to a pace, and walked alongside him. "Well, you're certainly not an average sight in these parts. You gathered quite a crowd back there." When Dante didn't immediately respond, Jiko continued. "Well, I can tell that you're a man of few words, so I guess I'll introduce myself first." He cleared his throat before continuing. "My name is Jiko. I'm a traveling monk of the Southern temple in Kyoto. And you are?"
Dante had barely been listening when the short man had been introducing himself. This man walking beside him seemed more like your average con-artist than a true holy man. Dante had learned about those kind of men the hard way. "Dante," he finally answered.
"Well, Dante," he said, "you've got your rice, and you're all set, by the looks of things. Of course, I'm glad I could be of some help back there, but don't you even think of thanking me. In fact, it is I who should be thanking you."
Dante gave him a confused look from over his shoulder. "And just why's that?"
"I was caught in the midst of that battle back in that old village. You were the one who took out those samurai, and enabled me to make my getaway." After pausing for a moment, he added, "I stuck around long enough to see what you did to those two samurai. And believe me, you fight like one who's possessed by a demon." He stole a glance at the tarp that contained Dante's guns, and smiled.
A troubled look came across the youth's face, and he chuckled. "You're not far off."
"What was that?" Jiko asked.
"Oh, nothing" Dante replied.
After a pause, Jiko turned back to the boy. "So, where are you headed?"
Dante thought for a sceond before answering. "Kyoto, actually."
"Really! I'm heading in that direction as well. Listen, do you mind if I walk with you for a little ways? I actually have something that might interest you-"
He stopped when he noticed Dante looking over his shoulder. He had spotted something that made him uneasy: three men, carrying swords or clubs, following them at a distance.
"Oh, so you spotted 'em, eh?" Jiko said, glancing back at the group himself. "That's what we get for waving that gold nugget around."
Dante gave him a look, then rolled his eyes. What the hell do you mean, 'we', jerkoff?
"Hearts have grown real hard and hostile throughout the land. They'll take anything they see. These three'll wait 'till we're asleep, then slit our throats, and make off with the gold."
Looking back at them, Dante tried to think of what to do about them. Reaching his hand into his side holster, he thought, Maybe I can fire off a round or two…that'd scare 'em off for good…
"May I suggest that we lose them, sir? If we run, they'll eventually give up. What do you say, huh?" And, without even waiting for an answer, he took off down the path. Dante followed suit, bewildered at the sight. How the hell does he run so fast with those geta?
The sounds of nocturnal animals, as well as the night winds, echoed through the nighttime air. In what could best be described as an old, abandoned river village, the two travelers sat around a crackling fire. They had stopped and set up camp under the giant roots of a large, dug-out tree trunk, with Jiko cooking rice in an iron pot while under his propped-up parasol. As he stirred the contents of the pot with a ladle, which contained a few handfuls of Dante's rice, as well as some herbs and spices the monk had added. Dante told him his story, save for any bit about time-traveling. Although Dante had gotten along fine on his own, he didn't have anything to make a meal worth remembering, and tonight might very well have been an exception.
"So, the Tatari-gami turned out to be a giant boar. That's some very bad luck you had there, my friend." He continued stirring, paying attention to his work despite talking to the youth. "And you wound up cursed. I thought I saw that arm act up back in that village," he said, noticing the bandage covering Dante's right arm.
"Yeah," he replied, crossing his arms. "After I recovered from that little disaster, I was told that the boar had come from the western lands. I tried following its trail to find the source, but-"
"You lost it" the monk finished for him. "Well, that's typical in this world. You think you have something, and the closer you get to it, the closer you are to coming to the realization that you never had squat to begin with. It's tough, but that's life." He lifted the wooden ladle out of the pot, and pointed it in the direction of what looked to be the remains of a demolished house. "You see this place over here? When I was last this way, about two years back, this was a thriving, beautiful village. Men, women and children were living happily, with almost nothing to worry about. And now, there's nothing left."
Dante looked around the place, gazing at what other remains there were. He remained silent as the monk continued.
"I can't even imagine what happened to the place. A fire could've broken out, or a flood could have happened, or a rockslide; or, maybe it fell victim to a group of ruthless bandits. The only sure thing now is that everyone's dead." Jiko reached into his large basket, and pulled out a small bundle of paper tied together by a red string. When he undid the string, he used a small wooden spoon to pour some of the powdery contents into the pot. "The land teems with the twittering of bitter ghosts, all dead from war, plague, or starvation. The thing is, nobody cares about the dead. Or the living, for that matter. You say you're cursed? This whole world is one big curse." Dipping his ladle into the bubbling rice, he scooped out a spoonful, brought it to his mouth, and blew on it a bit before tasting it. "Ah, that's good" he said.
Dante glanced at the monk as he continued to cook. "Most monks I've known aren't so pessimistic."
"You're not the first one to say that," he retorted, smiling. "But that's my whole point. This world has gotten so bad that even a monk like me has lost all faith. Just look at the world around you: pain, hatred, evil and suffering rule the day, every day. There's no point in having hope, because we all end up in hell in the end anyway. There is no innocence in this world anymore, if there ever was. Just look at your situation. You could've easily been one of those massacred by the samurai back there."
"I know. Still, I wish I could've gone through without doing all that. There must at least have been ten that I ran into and killed."
"You saved me that task. Believe me, they're better off dead. The more samurai you killed, the more villagers were able to get away. Your actions were definitely for the better."
Dante lowered his face in resignation. "I guess…"
The monk held his hand out towards the youth. "Here, hand me your bowl. You have to eat first." When Dante complied, and held out the bowl the Emishi had given him, Jiko proceeded to fill it with the hot rice gruel. "The point I'm trying to make, Dante, is that everybody dies. Everyone, from the lowliest brothel girl, to the Emperor himself. There's no escaping it." He handed the bowl back to the soldier when he had filled it. "That's a beautiful bowl. I haven't seen one like that in a while. It reminds me of an old tribe, long since extinct; the Emishi people. They used stone arrowheads, and rode red elk. Seeing them in this day and age would be amazing in itself."
Dante took his bowl, thinking about what the monk had just said. As Jiko began to pour some rice for himself, Dante reached into his pocket, and pulled out the red pair of hashi he'd been given as well, and began to eat, scooping the rice into his mouth. When he swallowed, he was a bit surprised at how hearty it was. For a monk, he sure knew how to make a good meal. Better than the youth could, anyways.
Jiko himself was scarfing down the rice gruel he had poured. When he finished, he began to gather himself some more. "By the way," he said, "just what is it you've got with you? I saw the way you took down those samurai. And it reminds me of a little thing I saw out west."
Dante brought his bowl away from his face, and donned a confused look. "It does?"
"Yes. I've met with people who have brought back these exotic weapons from the mainland. They're long pieces of metal that use black powder to fire projectiles, just like you did. Only you did things a bit differently."
"What do you mean?" Dante asked, feigning as much ignorance as he could.
"Well, for starters, you fired more than one shot without reloading. Plus, your weapons were significantly smaller in size than the weapons I gazed upon. I may not have been too close to the action, but I noticed that much."
Having thought about what Jiko had said, Dante decided now was as good a time as any. Reaching into his pocket once again, he pulled out the tiny ball of iron, holding it in front of them both. "Have you ever seen anything like this before?"
Jiko narrowed his eyes when they came to rest on the tiny iron ball. He reached out his own hashi, and grabbed the ball in between them. After examining it for a second, he rose his gaze back to the soldier. "I'm afraid I haven't."
"That's what was found in the body of the giant boar. The Oracle of the village said it was this that drove him over the edge. I don't know if I believed it at first, but I don't know what to think now."
The monk returned the tiny black sphere to Dante's hand, and the youth plopped it back into his side pocket. Jiko continued to eat in silence, not even looking at the outlander for a few seconds. Dante noticed that a slight frown had appeared on his pudgy face.
Okay, I guess I'd better shoot deeper. "Have you ever heard of a place called Tataraba?"
"I may have heard the name mentioned somewhere," the monk said, still not looking at the youth. "They do manufacture iron in some of these parts. Why are you interested?"
Dante sighed. "I don't know, it's just…well, it's just that I heard this ball might have come from this place. And I've gotta find the source if I'm ever going to have a chance at lifting my curse."
After a few more seconds of silent eating, Jiko spoke up again. "You know, there is another possible way to lift your curse."
Dante's head shot up suddenly. "There is?"
"Out west, there's this forest," the monk said, "a large, deep forest covering a wide mountain range. A powerful forest spirit, Shishi-Gami, is said to live deep within."
"Shishi-Gami?" Dante asked, paying deeper attention with every word.
"Legend has it he appears to those he deems worthy, and performs miracles. It's possible that he might be able to lift your curse."
Dante began to squeeze his chopsticks in a tight grip. "A miracle…I'm gonna need more than one if I'm ever gonna be able to go back to my normal life."
"And why is that?" Jiko asked.
"Oh, nothing" Dante replied. "Still, there's a catch to this, isn't there?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at the monk.
"Indeed," he answered, "and it's a rather big catch. This forest where he lives is said to be guarded by ancient animal Gods, who have made it forbidden to all humans. The Gods defending it are said to be of enormous size. Some say a small family of giant wolves guard the forest. No one who's entered has ever been known to make it out alive. But it's still the place you might be looking for."
After thinking for a second, Dante returned his gaze to the monk. "How will I know when I've found Shishi-Gami?"
Jiko swallowed another mouthful before answering. "Believe me, you'll know. They say he appears to others as a deer, only with a human face."
Hearing those words, Dante's eyes went slightly wide. Deer?
Luckily, the monk hadn't noticed, and Dante went back to eating after he regained his composure. If what this man was saying was true, if there really was a powerful forest spirit that could lift this awful curse from his body, then just maybe it was possible that this Shishi-Gami had the power to send him back to his own time. Maybe what the Oracle had said was true. Still, this newly found hope didn't make him feel any better. It really felt like it was only going to get harder along the way.
When dawn finally came, Dante gathered up his things, and prepared to head back off on his journey west. As he swung his heavy backpack over his shoulder, he thought about what the old monk had told him. Reaching into one of his many pockets, he pulled out the small wooden doll that Wakana had given him the night he had left the hidden village. The doll's head really looked like that of a strange deer, with a large mass of antlers sprouting from the skull. And the face, while clearly on a deer's head, looked human. Could this doll resemble the Shishi-Gami? he thought. Sighing, he put it back in his pocket, and gave one last look to where Jiko was sleeping. Giving a slight bow, he turned, and walked off.
As Jiko watched the youth disappear into the thick morning mist, he scowled. He had really been hoping he would be able to make something out of the boy. He really had the potential to be of use in his mission. That blasted iron ball had destroyed any such chance. If he were to try bringing him along now, he would be too much of a problem.
"It's a damn shame" he said as he fitted his cap back onto his bald head, and proceeded to pack away his belongings. "Still, I can't take any chances now. Things are going well enough." When he threw the last of his things inside the basket, he slung it over his shoulders, and grabbed his parasol. He'd worked too hard and too long to take any chances, and he wasn't about to get greedy just yet. But now, he could stop worrying. The outlander may have had the powers of a demon, but not even he stood a chance against what dwelled inside the depths of that forest. By the time he finally reached Tataraba, the boy would be dead, and safely out of the way. "Damn it all. And I liked him, too…"
Off in some rural area east of Kyoto, a man of about forty-five, and over six feet tall, took aim with a long bow into the field of tall grass, which was surrounded by a forest. His kept his eye closely focused on a group of young wild boars, who were slowly moving through the tall grass. Creeping along quietly, he waited for the right moment to strike.
When he was just close enough, he burst out of the thick grass, and let loose an arrow at the closest boar. His arrow struck, and his target thrashed around on the ground while the rest of its group scattered in alarm. Grabbing another arrow from the quiver on his back, he fired again, striking one more boar as it tried to escape before the others disappeared into the tall grass. Smiling, he lowered his bow, and stepped over to the closest kill, and picked it up by the hind legs. When he looked up, he saw that his six year old son had already gotten to the other boar, removed the arrow, and was hoisting it up by the legs as well.
"Otou-san, look! It's a big one!" He held the boar up to show his father.
Akira Komiya smiled. His younger son was getting better every day. Very soon, he'd be ready to start learning with a bow.
When he noticed his son moving quietly through the grass with a rock in his hand, he gave a slight chuckle. "All right, that's enough, Soten. Go on home and get ready."
His son jumped through the grass, scaring away another boar. He tossed the rock at it which missed.
"I said get going!" Akira said, a bit more stern this time. His son complied, carrying the boar over his shoulder.
When the two made it back to their hut, which stood in a small open area, they found the lady of the house washing some of their clothes out in a small pond just outside their hut. Miles of forest surrounded the small plot of land where their home stood, with no other living souls for miles. Akira knew how important this land was: it was rich, and well fit for living. The best thing about it was that, for a long time, no one had claimed it, not seeing its potential. His own father had changed all that. Now he owned the land, and he intended to use it for a better cause. He was going to make good living space for people who could not find homes elsewhere. He was close to making a deal with a lord from up north.
As he moved closer to his wife, he looked over to his son. "Soten, go in and clean up. I want you to be ready for dinner. Go on" he said, patting him on the back of the head.
His young son complied, running into the hut. Akira put the boar down on the large stone block next to the other, and moved over to meet his wife, who was still working in the pond.
"Dear, Kouji's already left to get the daikon from the crop, hasn't he?"
The woman pulled a small white sheet out of the water for a second before dunking it back in. "He's getting ready, dear."
"Dammit, Kouji!" he yelled, turning towards the hut.
"I'm coming, pop!" a voice from inside said. Akira turned back to his wife, who was gathering all the clothes into her basket.
"It's all right, Mikota. You can stop for today. You've done enough."
She looked up to him. "Are you sure? Some of these aren't fully clean yet."
"It doesn't matter. Just come on, I want everyone inside for dinner." She picked up her basket, and walked over to a nearby rope, which acted as a clothesline. She began hanging the sheets while her husband stood around, gazing out at the land.
An older boy, about sixteen, emerged from the door. When Akira turned and saw him, he noticed something. "Have you got the sickle with you?"
His son stopped in his tracks. "Oh…no, I forgot."
"I told you to take that with you, and cut away the extra grass around the crop. Now, go get it!"
"Yes, father!"
His son ran behind the hut, and Akira went back to the scenery. His wife, who was stretching out a tunic on the rope, looked at him with concern. "Dear…"
Akira turned to face his wife. "Yes, Mikota?"
She continued, albeit with difficulty. "Are you sure we're going to be able to keep this land?"
"Of course, dear" he said confidently. "We've been holding onto this land for years, and we've been able to overcome all problems. I just need more time to finalize our deal with Lord Watanabe, and we won't have to worry any more. This land will be put to its rightful use."
"But what about those men who came through here a week ago? They said that Lord Asano was claiming this land."
Her husband scowled. "I'm not going to let that bastard Asano push us around. My father found this land, not him! And if he thinks he can just take it, he's got another thing coming!"
"Dear, please, don't be so careless about this!" she said, grabbing him by the shoulders. "Asano has got a large army of men under his rule. I'm scared for us. I don't want us to get involved in any of these wars going on."
"We won't" he said reassuringly. "Believe me, dear, you don't have to worry about Asano's men. Watanabe is watching him closely. And if they try anything, it's war between the two. Asano can't afford that now. Trust me, you've got nothing to be afraid of."
Sighing, the woman wrapped her arms around her husband, and drew him into embrace. "You know I love you, don't you?"
Akira smiled as he held his wife. "You know I do, dear." Pulling away just a bit, he looked into her eyes. "Soon, you won't have to do this anymore. We'll have servants do this work for us. The boys will have more chances to learn than they can imagine. We'll be able to have full meals everyday. Believe me, things are only going to get better." He kissed his wife on the cheek, and she smiled back at him.
As they separated, Akira stepped away. "I'm going to get some fresh water from the well." Mikota nodded before going back to the clothesline. As Akira walked away, Kouji came back from the shed. "Now go and take the cart to the crop. Bring back at least three radishes."
"Yes, pop" the youth answered, heading past the hut.
As Akira walked towards the well, he listened to the sound of the wind blowing through the tall grass. To him, it seemed this land had a life all its own. And he knew just what it was capable of.
As Mikota continued to hang the clothing, she hummed a rice-planting song to herself. Kouji moved the cart away from the hut, and began to head down the trail that led to the small crop of theirs.
When Akira reached the well, and grasped the rope holding the bucket, he stopped. Listening carefully, he waited for a sound he thought he had just heard. When he listened, all he heard was his wife's singing.
Then he heard something. A sharp sound of something shooting through the air before a soft impact. He looked around to see if there was anything out in the fields. When he saw nothing he looked back to his home…and saw his wife, with an arrow through her chest. She stumbled, trying to breathe, before falling forward, pulling a white sheet down with her.
For a second, Akira didn't move. Then, with an enormous burst of adrenaline, he tore off towards the hut. "MIKOTAAAAAA!"
He didn't get halfway before he felt something sharp tear through his lung. Stumbling, and struggling to breathe, he kept going, trying with all his might to ignore the pain, and get to his wife.
Kouji, who had seen the arrow hit his father, jumped up from the cart. He was immediately hit in the back with an arrow himself, and fell on his face.
As he neared his wife, Akira made a last ditch attempt to reach for a dagger he kept nearby. Just as he was about to reach it, another arrow struck him, this one lodging itself in his throat. Blood flowed slowly from his wound, everything finally went dark.
The sound of running steps resonated as Soten dashed out of the hut to see what was happening. What he found was something more horrifying than he could have ever imagined.
Lying on the ground, with arrows lodged in their bodies, were his father, mother, and older brother. He slowly stepped towards them, looking in horror at the sight of his dead, helpless family. When he heard sounds from out in the tall grass, he looked in that direction- and saw four men wearing dirty, beaten tunics standing from four different positions. A fifth man suddenly appeared from out of the grass, clutching a longbow. He handed the bow to the man closest to him, and the five men began walking towards the hut.
When they had approached the young boy, Soten saw them clearly. Four of them looked like bandits, no older than their thirties. But the one in the middle, who was just as tall as any of them, looked older than fifty. After he stepped closer to the boy, he stopped, and gave a slight smile as the two looked at each other.
Soten stood before them, mortified. A tear developed in his eye as one of the other men turned to the eldest one. "What do we do with this one, Rokurota?"
The smile disappeared from the man's face. He gave his henchman a look before turning back to the boy, and pausing for a few seconds before speaking. "Now that you've called me by name…"
He reached to the handle of a dagger on his right side, and pulled out the blade. He and the boy looked at each other for a few more seconds in silence. He donned his brief smile again before moving in on the boy.
And we're done with another chapter. Sorry, but I have to get going. I'll try to get the next chapter up soon. We're getting closer to Iron Town and the wolf princess. And believe me, you'll really enjoy what you see. Happy trails.
(Note: Check back to chapter 9 for an update in the soundtrack.)
Music for Chapter 10:
L Arena, by Ennio Morricone (Kill Bill Volume 2 Soundtrack)
The Demon Power II, by Jo Hisaishi
Journey to the West, by Jo Hisaishi
Man with a Harmonica, by Ennio Morricone (Once Upon a Time in the West)