Dale Furutani - Jade Palace Vendetta

“But I do,” Enomoto said. “In fact, I must.”

Kaze sighed. “I wish you could see your way clear not to do this. I really don’t want to fight you.”

“You ruined a very good thing for me,” Enomoto said. “I tried to have you assassinated in Kamakura, but those fools took just three men. I could have told them it would take more than that to kill you. Then I tried a ninja, but that didn’t work either. Now I will do the job myself.”

“Why do you want me dead?”

“You said you had an idea so Hishigawa wouldn’t have to move gold between Edo, Kyoto, and Kamakura. I didn’t know what that idea was, but it would have put an end to my profitable game of robbing the merchant. I could have robbed Hishigawa for many years and built up a sizable fortune, not even counting what he paid me.”

“It was dirty money,” Kaze said.

“But it was still money. And I wanted it.”

“Well, I don’t want to fight you,” Kaze repeated.

“Then you’ll die,” Enomoto said, “because I intend to attack you. If you don’t wish to defend yourself, all the better. But regardless, I will defeat you. I can tell you’re tired and worn. I don’t know what Hishigawa did to you at his house last night, but I thank him for it.”

“Hishigawa’s dead,” Kaze said.

“Did you kill him?” Enomoto said, surprised.

“No,” Kaze answered. “But I did kill the rest.”

“I told you once we were all bad there. There were none there that really deserved to live.”

“Nonetheless, it made me sad to do it,” Kaze said. “I have no feelings about killing evil, but it was sad that there should be so much evil in one place.”

“Now you’re going to be sad to fight me? To try to kill me?”

“Yes. I’ll be sad,” Kaze answered. “Because despite everything, I know you are a superb swordsman. I feel no need to confirm my own skills with these silly duels that seem to be so popular now.”

“Well, I feel a need,” Enomoto said. “The honor of my name demands it.”

Kaze sighed. “Well, then. I suppose it’s best to get on with it.”

Enomoto stood back a few paces. Then, drawing a white sash from a sleeve of his kimono, he tied it under his armpits and across his back in a figure eight, pulling his sleeves up away from his arms and out of the way.

Kaze remained impassive, not bothering to tie his sleeves up.

Enomoto pulled his sword out of his scabbard and stood in the ready position. Kaze did the same.

“I’ll give you an extra incentive,” Enomoto said.

“What is that?”

“That young girl you’re looking for, the one who had the plum family crest?”

“Yes?” Kaze said.

“I know where she is.”

“Where is she?” Kaze asked. He studied Enomoto’s face to see if he was lying or not. In the eyes looking back at him, impassive but alert, Kaze detected truth.

“Where is she?” Kaze asked again.

“You’ll find the answer on a scrap of paper in my sleeve,” Enomoto said. “I don’t think you’ll be reading it. But just in case, you’ll find it there.”

Kaze saw no further need for conversation and stood at the ready.

The men stood watching each other, looking for the slightest hesitation, the slightest opening, so they could make an attack. With a perfect defense, a swordsman can never be defeated. He might not be able to win, but he will never lose. To go on the offense was to take a risk, but through risk was victory. Kaze was tired but alert, every fiber of his body connected to the sword in his hand. He waited, content to let Enomoto make the first move.

Enomoto suddenly started running six quick steps to the side. Kaze followed, keeping Enomoto in front of him-always watching, waiting for the slightest lapse.

To his left, Kaze could see the sea now marked by a bloody ribbon as the disk of the sun poked its way up the horizon. Enomoto suddenly lunged forward, picking his sword up and bringing it down in one smooth motion. Kaze parried the blow, but his abused body let him down because, instead of smoothly stopping Enomoto’s blow, his arms buckled slightly, and he felt Enomoto’s blade as it kissed his brow, cutting a small slash. He felt the blood flow down the side of his face, but he made no concession to the wound, maintaining his guard.

“I would have expected you to be much stronger,” Enomoto said. “You must be very tired, Matsuyama-san. I guess Hishigawa-san treated you roughly. Now that I’ve drawn first blood, I know that I will be victorious and kill you.”

Kaze made no response. Instead he started moving laterally on his own, with Enomoto following him move for move. As Kaze moved toward the sea, his path made a shallow arc and, instead of having the rising sun to his left, Kaze soon had the sun behind him.

“Very good,” Enomoto acknowledged, “but not decisive. Our duel will be over long before the sun can blind me or give you an advantage.” He stood at the ready again. The exertions of their maneuvering left a thin sheen of sweat forming on the sides of his neck.

Kaze attacked both to the right and the left. Each blow was parried by Enomoto.

“You’re a strong opponent,” Enomoto acknowledged. “But there is nothing you can do to defeat me. I’ll eventually inflict a mortal blow. We’re too evenly matched, but I can see you’re weakening. And when you’re weak enough, I will prevail.”

Kaze said nothing. He concentrated his whole being into his sword. He stood watching his opponent, looking for some small opening so he could once again press his attack. Instead of an opening, he saw that a small fly was buzzing about Enomoto’s neck, attracted by the sweat and the heat of his body. Kaze could see the muscles on Enomoto’s neck tensing, and he knew that Enomoto would soon be launching an all-out attack. In his weakened state, he also knew he would eventually succumb to that attack and die.

In the sleeve of Enomoto’s blue kimono was a scrap of paper that would help him end his quest for the girl. But now his quest and his life would soon be over, and his promise to the Lady would be as dust caught in a whirlwind.

The fly returned and landed on Enomoto’s neck. Enomoto twitched slightly to dislodge it, and suddenly Kaze’s blade shot out, catching the fly and biting ever so slightly into Enomoto’s neck. Kaze’s Fly Cutter had lived up to its name.

A red surge of blood pumped from the cut. Enomoto had felt the sting of Kaze’s blade, and he was surprised that Kaze had made such a rapid and weak cut. It was a cut that would normally be shrugged off, no more serious than the slash on Kaze’s head. The relative weakness of the blow made it seem trivial, but the speed of the blade was a maneuver he had never seen before. At first he didn’t realize that, although the cut was relatively shallow, it was nonetheless fatal. It had severed the carotid artery.

As Enomoto stood opposing Kaze, his life’s blood was pumping out into a widening stain over his shoulder. With his mind focused, Enomoto did not acknowledge the cut on his neck. Instead, he launched his attack. His blade cut right, then left, then right again. Each time Kaze brought his own blade up to counter the blow and keep Enomoto’s sword away from him, but he felt his strength ebbing, and only will kept him from succumbing to Enomoto’s attack.

Enomoto had observed Kaze’s tired stance, but he was surprised at his own growing light-headedness and weakness as he pressed his attack.

He brought his blade up above his head to launch another onslaught but, instead of bringing it down, Enomoto stopped a moment. His body swaying, a sudden infirmity attacked him. Not thinking of Kaze now, Enomoto brought his sword forward and placed it down on the ground to try to steady himself. He looked down at his kimono and was surprised to see his shoulder and sleeve soaked with blood. It didn’t seem possible that all this blood could be his. But his power to comprehend what was happening was rapidly diminishing.