Samurai Son (20 page)
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Akira stared at the woman who stood before him.
He hadn’t seen a woman of this beauty anywhere in Tsuitori, and he doubted any human woman could be so beautiful.
She was flawless from her black, silken hair to her pale skin to her shapely figure.
“I’m sorry we were not properly introduced,” the woman said.
“The last time we spoke, I was carrying a no-dachi.”
Akira frowned.
“You’re the Tengu they called Windstorm.”
She smiled a sly smile.
“And you are Takeshi Akira, son of Takeshi daimyo and Stormdancer.”
“You are not in your true form,” Akira accused.
“I thought you would find this form more pleasing,” she said.
“It doesn’t matter what form I take, for Tengu are shapeshifters.
Whether you see me in my native form or whether you see me as a human, it matters not to me.
But I’ve chosen this form so that we could talk and you could understand why you are here, Takeshi Akira.”
Akira said nothing.
The Tengu already had his name.
If they wanted to, they could cast spells on him.
He set the cup down, no longer feeling hungry or thirsty, but angry at the way they had treated him and his mother.
He wondered if anyone had reached Rokuro in time to save him or whether there were any samurai left at the estate to send out search parties.
He was afraid of the answers.
“You must be terribly hungry,” Windstorm said, her hands tracing her slender figure.
“Is the food not satisfactory?”
“No, the food is quite satisfactory; the company isn’t,” Akira said, his eyes narrowing.
“Come now, boy,” she said, her laughter mocking.
“Don’t you find me beautiful?”
Akira couldn’t argue that the woman who stood before him had beauty that surpassed anything he knew.
Yet her presence repulsed him.
His mind went back to Kasumi, who was to him far more beautiful than this creature.
He suspected that Kasumi was far more honorable as well.
“Bring Ikumi back.”
“Do you have lead in your ears, boy?
We have told you she is being punished for her pride.”
“Then I have nothing to say to you,” Akira said.
“Really?”
She slid beside him.
“Aren’t you the least bit curious as to what it means to be Tengu?
Don’t you want to know what powers you have?”
Akira looked at the Tengu.
“What powers?” he asked.
“Powers to cause suffering and pain?”
“Didn’t you kill the dragon?
You couldn’t have done that as a human, could you?”
“Jiro killed a dragon,” Akira said defensively.
“I could have killed the dragon without the powers of the Tengu.”
“Really?” Windstorm asked.
“And yet you turned into your true form when you fought the dragon.
You became Tengu.”
Akira had nothing to say.
He knew Windstorm was right, but he hated the creature who stood before him, no matter how lovely she appeared.
“I don’t wish to be Tengu.
Not if it means Ikumi must forever be a bird.”
“Ikumi turned her back on what she was.
She violated Tengu law by bearing you, the product of the Tengu and human.
The Tengu are only trying to make amends.”
“Make amends?” Akira nearly shouted.
“How are you making amends?”
Windstorm looked at him.
“I know it is hard for you to believe this, but you are Tengu.
You are not human, no matter what Ikumi said.
You are Tengu.
You have a choice, my young Akira: you can learn the ways of our people or you can die.”
“Die?”
Akira stared at her.
“Is that what will happen to me if I do not become Tengu?”
Windstorm looked at him, sadness in her eyes.
“Yes, my young samurai, you have no choice but to become that which you already are.
Ikumi knew that if you showed your Tengu powers, we would have no choice but to kill you or to make you one of us.
We have shown remarkable kindness in bringing you here and offering you a second chance at life.”
“Why must I choose to become Tengu?” Akira asked.
“As long as you are capable of using a Tengu’s power, you’ll forever be tempted to use this power in the world of men.
That is why you must become that what you already are lest the gods bring judgment upon us all.”
Silence ensued.
Akira stared at the beautiful Tengu woman.
When at last he found his voice, it held a slight quaver to it.
“Why would the gods care about me?”
“Because, my dear Akira, you are more powerful than any mortal could ever dream of becoming,” she said.
“You could be more powerful than a shogun or even the emperor if you chose to.
That is why the Tengu must claim our own or risk the wrath of the gods upon us.
That is why you must be Tengu.”
Akira closed his eyes.
“Ikumi couldn’t have known.”
Windstorm shook her head.
“She knew, my young samurai, but she didn’t care.
You see, the woman you call Ikumi, the Tengu we call Stormdancer, thought she could control you.
She had hoped by keeping your heritage a secret, she could prevent your very nature from manifesting itself.
She thought that she was better than the other Tengu, and because of this, she has put us in a very precarious situation.
If you do not become Tengu and do not shun your human side, the gods will take action on us all.”
“Why didn’t anybody tell me this?” Akira said.
“Why kidnap me?
Why attack my father’s estate?
Why didn’t you simply talk to me?”
“Do you think Stormdancer would have allowed it?” the Tengu asked.
Akira said nothing.
He knew Ikumi would not have allowed the Tengu to speak with him.
He knew she would have protected him as best she could from these creatures.
As much as he did not wish to admit it, there was a kernel of truth in what the Tengu said.
Windstorm picked up the kettle and poured some hot tea into Akira’s cup.
She handed him the cup.
“It will do you no good to try to run away from us,” she said.
“You can sail to the ends of the world, and the Tengu will find you.
There’s no place you can hide from us.
So sit, have something to eat, and learn what it is to be Tengu.”
Chapter Forty
Tenko proved to live up to Kasumi’s expectations, much to her chagrin.
As they walked, he chattered noisily about nothing, oblivious to the possible dangers that might be lurking in the forest.
Night had turned to day, and even though the sun had already risen, an eerie twilight settled over them in the thick forest.
Despite several attempts at shutting him up and even several threats, Kasumi fell into a disgusted silence, letting the old man blather on about everything and nothing.
“Why don’t you be silent?” she demanded.
“Why?” Tenko said.
“The Tengu.”
“They already know we’re coming.
It doesn’t matter.”
Kasumi looked around.
They had walked for miles in the seemingly endless forest.
The pines and conifers whispered with the breeze.
She tasted the air with her tongue and listened intently.
She neither smelled nor heard the creatures, but something told her Tenko was right.
“Where are they?” she whispered.
“Eh?”
Tenko took the opportunity to sit down on the soft, pine needle–covered ground and pick out a stone that had lodged between his foot and his sandal.
“Where are the Tengu?” she asked.
Tenko stroked his thinning beard.
“Look around you.”
Kasumi looked around.
The wind continued to make the pines sway, shifting the patterns of dappled light on her face and around the travelers.
“I don’t see anything.”
“No?” Tenko said.
“Look again.”
Kasumi looked around again.
Again, she saw nothing save the light and shadows.
“No, girl!” Tenko said.
“Don’t look with your senses.
Look with your instincts.”
“Instincts?”
Kasumi frowned.
She wondered if the kitsune had lost his mind.
“Wizard, what are you talking about?”
“Hmm, and I would’ve thought you, of all people, Neko, would see beyond this world.
You are kami, are you not?”
Kasumi bit her lip.
She
was
kami but her people had long since left the forests and chose to live with humans.
Her mother had married a human—a samurai—something the kami generally didn’t do.
For her to live in the world of men, Kasumi wondered how much she and her other kami had lost.
“Perhaps I need some guidance, wizard.
Perhaps you can show me what I’m doing wrong.”
Tenko clucked his tongue.
“A great kami like you would ask a mere kitsune?”
Kasumi bit her lip.
“Yes, I would humbly ask.”
“Ah, Naotaka-san, it is very hard to teach,” Tenko said slyly.
“This little kitsune can’t possibly teach a big tiger like you.”
A low growl issued from Kasumi’s throat.
“I think you are lying.”
Even so, she turned her gaze back to the forest treetops.
What kind of game was this kitsune playing with her?
What purpose would it serve except to muddy her attempts to find Takeshi?
As much as she didn’t trust Tenko, she wondered if perhaps she distrusted him
too much.
“Believe what you will,” Tenko said.
“But try first.”
Kasumi turned her senses to the forest.
How in the gods’ names was she supposed to use kami senses to determine if the Tengu were around?
She had to use senses she didn’t know how to use, senses she never used.
Kasumi paused.
Or maybe she
did
use them; she just didn’t do so consciously.
Tenko said to use her instincts.
She wondered if she could.
She closed her eyes, feeling the warm, drowsy sun in the dapple patches of light around her.
She could smell the pines, at once sharp and earthy to her nostrils.
The smell of other animals pervaded her senses as well.
She could smell the kitsune, both man and fox; his scent filled her nostrils with a musky and sweaty odor.
And there was something else she couldn’t quite understand.
Kasumi had a sense of Tenko’s
being,
that is, who he was.
He didn’t smell like a human did; nor did he smell like a fox.
He smelled kitsune—otherworldly—yet she couldn’t say for certain that he smelled any different.
Was that the difference?
Was there something different in Tenko that she could pick up on faster because she was kami?
She didn’t know.
Kasumi opened her eyes and looked at Tenko.
He smiled and nodded, bobbing his head in delight.
“You see!
You see!
The great tiger sees!”
With a harrumph, she frowned and stared at Tenko.
“What am I doing?”
“You tell me, Neko.”
Kasumi shook her head.
“I don’t know but I sense something
different
about you.”
“Yes, yes you should.
Just as you sense things being different about others.”
Kasumi sighed.
Was it as simple as that?
She doubted it.
She turned her attention to the forest again.
This time, using her instincts, as Tenko called them, she looked into the forest.
Not quite imperceptibly, she caught a whiff of something
almost
on the breeze—
almost.
The scent hadn’t been there before but was there now.
Something caught her attention on the forest floor, a scent she hadn’t smelled before.
“What am I sensing?”
Tenko shrugged.
“What do you think?”
Kasumi squatted down to look at the path they were on.
They had been following a game trail.
She preferred following game trails over those used by humans.
It was too easy for a human to disturb the trail, but animal trails were more distinct and filled with different scents.
Often animals left their marks to let others know they had passed that way.
She had caught the scent of a bobcat, the musk and scratching of a buck, and the trail of a squirrel.
It was all easy to read if one knew how.
Kasumi touched the dirt, and she picked up some of it.
It felt dry, like fine dust.
She rubbed the dirt between her fingers and sniffed it.
There it was again, the unmistakable scent of Tengu.
“They came this way,” she said softly.
“Yes.”
She followed the scent to an oak tree and snuffed at the tree.
The scent was there too.
She opened her eyes, and for a moment, she looked up through the dappled light and saw movement: a flash of russet feathers before they scurried out of view.
“They know we’re here,” she whispered.
“You didn’t believe me, did you?”
Kasumi frowned.
She wondered how she would rescue the Takeshi if the Tengu already knew of the rescue party.
Sighing, she drew her katana.
“Tengu!” she shouted to the treetops.
“I am seeking the Takeshi.
Show yourselves!”
Tenko stared at her.
“Are you mad?”
“They already know we’re here.
Do you have any better ideas?”
“Why don’t you just knock on the door and demand being let in?”
Kasumi shrugged.
“It’s a direct approach.”
Tenko laughed and shook his head in disbelief.
“Foolish girl.”
Kasumi was about to argue when she saw a Tengu materialize before her in the oak tree.
