Laura Rowland - The Iris Fan

Exultation dawned on Lord Ienobu. He said in a hushed voice, “I’m shogun.”

The ramifications of the shogun’s death snapped Sano out of his grief. The shock on Yanagisawa’s and Yoshisato’s faces turned to horror. They were losing the war, Yoshisato couldn’t inherit the regime, and Hirata stood between Yanagisawa and his dream of ruling Japan.

Lady Nobuko wailed, “No, no, no!” She crawled to the shogun and pounded on his chest. “You can’t die yet!”

“Revive him!” Yanagisawa shouted at the physician.

Yanagisawa had been so fixated on gaining power by making his son shogun that he couldn’t adapt fast enough to the new circumstances, Sano realized. He couldn’t think past the fact that now Yoshisato could never inherit the regime. No matter that his army was in the castle and he might still have a chance of victory over Lord Ienobu-all he could see at the moment was the shogun dead and his dream lost.

The physician dipped a cotton puff in a bowl of water and wet the shogun’s lips, administering the matsugo-no-mizu -water of the last moment, the final attempt to revive a dead person. The shogun remained inert. Droplets scattered as Lady Nobuko pounded on him and shouted, “Come back!” The physician shook his head.

Yanagisawa turned on Hirata. “This is your fault!” He told his bodyguards, “Kill him!” Now realizing how to remedy the situation, he shouted, “Kill Lord Ienobu!”

The bodyguards hesitated, afraid of Hirata. Lord Ienobu, chortling with glee, said to Hirata, “Here’s my first order as shogun: Kill them all!”

Distraught but resigned, Hirata drew his sword with a motion so fast that the outline of his arm blurred and the weapon seemed to leap into his hand. Sano hauled himself to his feet, drawing his own sword. It was his duty to rid the world of the evil thing Hirata had become.

“Don’t just stand there, kill him!” Yanagisawa shoved his bodyguards forward. “Do it or I’ll have your heads!”

* * *

As the guards came at him, Hirata felt General Otani’s will take control of his body, a sensation like liquid steel solidifying in his nerves, muscles, and joints. He slid into a state of amplified perception. The auras of the people in the room crackled and sparked hot, colored light. Energy flooded through Hirata, launching him into a dimension between the present and the near future. Time stretched. The bodyguards lunged in slow motion. He saw a spectral image of each man, like a faint, greenish, twin shadow, blazing a trail in front of its owner. The images revealed where the men would be and what they would do in the next instant. Hirata slashed.

The speed of his blade caused a bang like a gunshot. An instant later the men filled the space where their images had been. He cut through armor, flesh, and bone. The friction made sparks and smoke. The men’s severed upper and lower halves landed on the floor in a welter of blood. Horror gradually appeared on the faces of Yanagisawa, Yoshisato, Sano, and Masahiro. Akiko screamed. She and Reiko covered their mouths with their hands. Lady Nobuko shrieked as gore splashed her. The physician vomited. Lord Ienobu tittered with delight. The sounds distorted into groans that rose in pitch as time contracted, Hirata’s perception slowed, and the world sped up to its normal pace. The smells of blood, viscera, and burnt flesh, leather, and metal suffused the air.

Sano stepped in front of Masahiro, Reiko, and Akiko. Raising his sword in his right hand, he flung out his left arm to shield his family. Yanagisawa did the same for Yoshisato. Hirata moved toward Yanagisawa. If he killed Yanagisawa, it would be something good to come of the mess he’d made of his life, a gift of atonement to Sano.

Terror froze Yanagisawa’s expression. Then Hirata heard General Otani’s voice: Kill Sano first. Hirata faltered; his body pivoted. He knew why General Otani wanted him to kill Sano: It would break his spirit; he would be softer clay in the ghost’s hands. Hirata resisted. It was like pulling against chains wrapped around him. His steps changed course, toward Sano.

“So it’s come to this.” Sano hadn’t put his helmet back on, and Hirata saw reproach in his eyes. “You’ve broken every other rule of Bushido, why not murder me.”

“No, Hirata- san ,” Reiko and Masahiro pleaded. Akiko was crying.

Kill them all , General Otani said. Then they won’t look at you like that.

“Run,” Sano told his family, as if he could hear the voice in Hirata’s head.

They didn’t move. Hirata strained as General Otani moved one of his feet in front of the other. The tug-of-war pulled a muscle in his groin. Hirata gasped at the pain, step by arduous step. Lord Ienobu trailed close behind him as if he were a shield. Hirata’s heart pumped madly. The war of wills between him and the ghost caused a racketing ache in his skull. General Otani roared with anger, pain, and bloodlust. Hirata tried to tell Sano he was buying him time to escape and couldn’t hold off much longer, but his voice shriveled in his throat. Sano held Hirata’s gaze, daring him to attack, entreating him to desist. General Otani raised Hirata’s arm. It trembled, the sword waving in the air, as Hirata fought to hold it back and the ghost tried to swing at Sano. A tendon snapped. Hirata and General Otani cried out. As they struggled for dominance over the body they shared, Sano swung at Hirata.

Hirata dodged. Sano missed, but for an instant Hirata’s attention to General Otani lapsed. The ghost seized control, and Hirata hacked repeatedly at Sano. As Sano ducked, his heavy armor threw him off balance. Masahiro lashed his sword and Reiko her dagger at Hirata, but Hirata easily deflected them while battering Sano. Sano spun like a suit of armor hung on a stand for combat practice. He staggered and tripped over his feet. All that held him upright was Hirata’s blows whacking him from side to side. Armor plates and chain-mail links flew off him. His sword broke in two and fell from his hand. Hirata strained against General Otani. The pain in his head was so bad, he felt nauseated. Every sore muscle throbbed as he relentlessly attacked the master he loved. He wept as he delivered a mighty blow.

Sano sprawled on his back. His hand scrabbled in a futile attempt to pick up his broken sword. His armor in tatters, his breastplate scored by cuts, he was too exhausted to stand.

With a loud scream and all his strength, Hirata wrenched his hips. He kicked out with his feet. Stumbling backward, he collided with Lord Ienobu. General Otani halted his retreat and bent his body at the waist with a force that sent a painful spasm twanging through his back. As General Otani propelled him at Sano, Hirata threw his weight forward and landed on his stomach. Yanagisawa and Yoshisato circled him, trying to reach Lord Ienobu, but Hirata lashed his sword at them, and they jumped back. Hirata crawled toward Sano. More muscles seized, tendons pulled. His heart was beating so hard it would burst from his chest.

Kill Sano!

Hirata slowly rotated, as if against a tornado buffeting him. He crawled away from Sano. Elbow and shoulder joints dislocated; bones in his arms and legs cracked. Pain exploded from the injuries. The pressure of the blood in his veins rose so high that a whooshing sound filled his ears and his head spun. He saw, through black dots that swam in his vision, Lord Ienobu cowering in a corner. Perspiration gushed from his pores. General Otani tried to rein him in. He groped on his knees and left hand, dragging his sword with his right, toward Lord Ienobu.

If he could kill Lord Ienobu, the ghost’s aim of destroying the Tokugawa regime would be done for.

His spine snapped like a wire drawn too tight. His arms and legs collapsed under him. He landed with his cheek to the floor. Numbness pervaded his body. His neck and facial muscles were the only ones he could move. He could still breathe and feel the wild beating of his heart, but he was paralyzed.