Samurai Son (22 page)

Chapter Forty-Four

Akira awoke the next day to the scent of hot oolong tea and miso soup.
 
The Tengu had provided a good breakfast for him, even though he saw no creatures.
 
The rice cakes were still warm, and he ate them along with the soup to take the chill off the late morning.

Windstorm had left him after his acceptance the night before.
 
Somehow the Tengu knew he would not go back on his word, being a samurai.
 
They had left him unchained, and while Akira knew he could simply walk out of the forest to a village, he wondered what good it would do.
 
The Tengu would find him if he returned home or if he fled to the farthest islands.
 
They were everywhere.
 
There was no way he could escape them, and they knew that.

Though Akira hadn’t seen anyone while talking to Windstorm, the Tengu had given him a pallet to sleep on and blankets to keep him warm.
 
The bedding simply existed when none had before.

Akira had been very tired and slept through the night and late into morning without dreams.
 
Now that it was light, he had a chance to survey his surroundings while he ate.
 
The Tengu had laid out a fine tunic, breeches, and a kamishimo, and a washbasin and pitcher sat on the rocks nearby.
 
Next to the clothing were his swords.
 
Akira popped a rice cake into his mouth and went over to them, picking them up gently and partially drawing the katana.
 
The blade had been cleaned and oiled; the Tengu had taken good care of his weapons.

He set the two blades down and returned to his morning meal.
 
Although he was angry at the Tengu for changing Ikumi into a bird, he remembered from legends how fickle the Tengu could be.
 
The fact that they didn’t kill him was a mercy in itself.
 
If the gods were angry that a union of Tengu and human existed, they were being quite restrained in giving him a second chance.

Akira’s thoughts turned to Ikumi.
 
Did his mother know that to produce a half-Tengu son might anger the gods?
 
Did she know what dangers she had put him in by not telling him?
 
Windstorm’s words made sense to him, yet he wasn’t fully Tengu.
 
He was half Tengu and half samurai.
 
The Tengu had made him choose to live—and maybe rescue Ikumi from her bird prison.

After he ate, he stripped and began washing up.
 
His muscles protested against the lukewarm water and the cool breeze, but he did his best to get the grime off him.
 
The bruises from the abduction and Windcatcher’s “training” were ugly, mottled purple and yellow against his skin.
 
They were very tender when he touched them.

He expected to have rice bran to scrub with and was surprised when he found that the Tengu had left him soap.
 
That was easier on the bruises and seemed to have some healing herbs in it because the lather took away the pain.
 
Once clean, he dressed, tied his hair into the traditional topknot, and tied the obi with his two swords around his waist.

“You are indeed handsome,” came a voice.

Akira looked up and saw Windstorm sitting on the highest point of the rock formation above him.
 
He felt his face flush, wondering if she had been watching him the entire time.
 
“Thank you, Windstorm-san.”
 
He nodded, not quite a bow but a gesture of respect nonetheless.

She smiled a coy and cunning smile.
 
“We can’t keep calling you by your human name,” she said as she walked slowly down the rocks.
 
“You’re Tengu now.”

He frowned.
 
Would he have to look like a bird?

Windstorm laughed.
 
“You’re worried you have to look like us.”

Akira’s frown deepened.
 
“Can you read my mind?”

“I could if I wanted to, but you hide your emotions poorly.”
 
She took a few steps then hopped off the rock.
 
“Akira, you can look however you wish, but eventually, to use all the Tengu powers, you will have to revert to your true nature.”

“Like I did with the dragon?”

“Yes.”

He nodded.
 
“But I don’t have to.”

She laughed.
 
“No, you don’t.”
 
She stared at him, biting her lip.
 
“Stormhammer,” she said at last.

“What?”
 
The name thrummed through his bones and sinew.
 
Akira’s mouth went dry.
 
It was as if she were calling him by his very essence, causing his skin to tingle and his heart to beat faster.

“Stormhammer.
 
That is your name.”

The wind picked up, and clouds obscured the sun as she said it.
 
“You’re a sea mage, Stormhammer, like your mother.
 
You control both the winds and waves.
 
You are the fierce storm that destroys fleets of ships and causes lightning to crackle among the clouds.
 
I name you Stormhammer because that is what you are.”

The sky darkened and the wind howled, bringing up leaves and debris in a windstorm.
 
But Akira felt nothing but power surge through him with his name.
 
He stood up, crying aloud not in fear, but in joy as the wind raged around him and the rain began to fall.

Takeshi Akira Stormhammer laughed, and the thunder echoed his name.

Chapter Forty-Five

Kasumi hesitated for a brief moment, still naked and in human form, on her hands and knees, staring up into the tree.
 
The Tengu was gone and a growl issued from her throat.
 
At that moment, the wind picked up.

The hair on the back of her neck prickled, and she knew at once that she sensed nothing short of magic.
 
She stood up and turned to say something to Tenko, but the old man had disappeared, and she could see the fox’s bushy tail waver for a moment as the old kitsune scrambled for cover.

Kasumi changed back into tiger form and followed the kitsune’s tracks.
 
The sky roared to life with a terrible storm, and she found herself running in terror.
 
Thunder cracked overhead and rain and hail pelted down on her.
 
She loped in blind fear until her paws touched sand and she stumbled out onto the northern beach.
 
She stopped where the sand met the bamboo and dark pines, horrified at what she saw.

The sky was an ugly black with thick storm clouds that rolled across each other.
 
The tall waves, swollen and gray-green, crashed on the beach and rolled close to the edge of the sand.
 
Lightning arced across the sky, its green and blue color bathing the land in an eerie light.

This isn’t normal,
Kasumi thought with terror.
 
She remembered in legends how the gods and other kami were able to bring this odd multicolored lightning against men.
 
But that was legend; this was real.
 
The clouds above twisted in an unnatural movement, and fingerlike clouds danced among the lightning in a deadly display.
 
Some of the funnels touched down, sucking the water up into the sky and throwing it back down as briny raindrops.
 
They fell on Kasumi’s orange and black pelt, and she squinted to protect her eyes against the salty rain.

Her gaze followed the shoreline.
 
If she had been only a tiger, she wouldn’t be able to see everything she had, but she was a blending of tiger and human.
 
There weren’t many humans along this side of the island, no doubt because of the Tengu, but she could see a port many miles to the southwest and waves tossing the boats like flotsam.
 
A funnel was making its way toward the port.
 
Kasumi watched helplessly as the funnel roared at the village.

As she watched the waterspout tear through the village, she felt a nudge against her foreleg.
 
She looked down to see the fox pawing her leg urgently.

What is it?
she asked.

The kitsune stared into her eyes.
 
We can’t stay here; the wind will tear us apart.

Kasumi’s eyes focused on the cyclones as they continued their deadly course.
 
She had heard that the Tengu could control both wind and waves but had never seen such a deadly display nor felt such uncontrolled power.
 
The mage behind this magic was strong, and she knew she couldn’t fight such a creature, even with her powers as a kami.
 
She was afraid that maybe she was up against something more powerful than she.

She turned to the fox.
 
Let’s get our things, if there’s anything left.
 
We will have to find a way around the Tengu’s powers.

#

Hiroshi stared at Jiro.
 
He wondered at first if maybe this man was a test from his sensei, but on second consideration, Hiroshi decided that this was nothing more than coincidence.
 
Naotaka and his clan were beholden to Nanashi daimyo, and this young samurai was probably being used as a courier and not much more.
 
He bowed to Jiro, even though his very nature seethed in him to do so.
 
“Naotaka-san, it is my pleasure to meet you.”

Jiro sneered.
 
“Where’s your master, boy?
 
I have urgent matters with him.”

The jibe rankled but Hiroshi kept a stoic face.
 
“My master, Takeshi-sama, is currently busy.
 
If you would like, I will make an appointment.”

“It can’t wait,” Jiro said and started forward.

Hiroshi, surprised at the man’s rude insistence, stepped in front of him, barring the way.
 
His hand rested lightly on the hilt of his katana.
 
“Naotaka-san,” he said with a low growl, “I said I will make an appointment.”

Jiro’s gaze rested for a moment on Hiroshi’s hand and its meaning.
 
He glowered but did not step back.
 
“There’s been an attack at the Takeshi estate.
 
Takeshi’s wife and son have been kidnapped.”

Hiroshi almost gasped but pressed his lips together hard.
 
“How do you know this?”

“I was at the Tsuitori mansion.
 
The Tengu attacked and kidnapped them.”

Hiroshi almost laughed but saw the seriousness in Jiro’s face.
 
“Let me get my lord,” he said, turning and heading down the hall to speak to Takeshi.

Chapter Forty-Six

Akira Stormhammer closed his eyes and raised his head, feeling the cold rain fall on his face.
 
He laughed again but this time the thunder didn’t echo in his voice.
 
He could feel the life on Tsuitori and feel the power as he brought the storm to him.
 
He had never felt so connected to the world as he did now; he had never known this kind of power, and it intoxicated him.
 
He was soon soaked but didn’t care if he ruined his fine clothing.

As the rain fell, he felt a peculiar sensation around his shoulder blades, like an itching or a burning.
 
He could sense Windstorm close behind him, and she shifted his kamishimo.
 
He felt her rip it, and Akira opened his eyes.
 
He turned his head to see glorious russet wings unfurl behind him.

Akira looked into Windstorm’s eyes.
 
She was mostly in human form, but she, too, had wings.
 
He started toward her, but she laughed and, with a single beat of her wings, leaped into the sky.
 
Without thought, Akira followed her, letting his powerful wings take him to her.
 
Windstorm laughed again, twisting in midair as he tried to catch her.
 
He overshot her position, not quite familiar with flying.
 
Still, he chased her through the sky, across the clouds.
 
Lightning danced around them, and thunder echoed across the valleys below.

Windstorm led him toward the great mountain on the northeastern coast.
 
Akira had heard stories of dragons who once resided in the depths of that mountain, but he knew they couldn’t be there; the Tengu would keep any dragon at bay.
 
Even so, he saw the glow coming from deep within the mountain’s cone.

At that moment, Windstorm made a sharp turn away from the mountain.
 
Instead of flying farther away, she was suddenly closer.
 
Akira launched himself at her and caught her in his arms.
 
They tumbled for a few precarious moments until Akira could slow their descent with his wings.
 
Windstorm pressed closely against his body, and he could feel all her curves beneath the wet, flimsy silk.

It was still raining when they landed, but it was more of a fine mist than the driving rain he had produced earlier.
 
Windstorm did not pull away.
 
She kissed him and, to his surprise, he found himself responding to her.
 
He did not object as she pulled his wet clothes off.

#

The storm had mostly abated by the time Kasumi made her way back to the place where she and Tenko had met the Tengu.
 
Tenko had been remarkably silent on their walk back, and Kasumi glanced at the fox from time to time to be certain that the kitsune was still with her.

When they reached the place where Kasumi challenged the Tengu, she found her clothing in a muddy pile and her swords soaked in mud.
 
Her pack with extra clothing was soaked through, and she growled in frustration.
 
She had wanted dry clothing.
 
She looked at the kitsune, who had changed back, not at all modest about his nakedness.
 
As Kasumi expected, he was mostly just a skinny mass of wrinkles.

Tenko turned around and looked at her.
 
Kasumi would’ve blushed if she weren’t in tiger form.
 
“Not much to see, girl, when you get to my age, eh?” Tenko said.
 
“Not nearly as handsome as that boy of yours.”

Boy?
 
Kasumi blinked at the kitsune.
 
You mean Akira?
 
He’s not
my
boy.
 
She felt her anger rise again.
 
She could never fall for the samurai boy and be true to her people.
 
She shook her head.

“Isn’t he?”
 
Tenko clucked his tongue as he pulled on his muddy pants.
 
“It’s a shame he isn’t.
 
Handsome son of a daimyo.”

It’s none of your business.

Tenko chuckled and as he walked over to the tiger.
 
“Whatever you say, Neko-sama.”
 
He bent over and picked up her things.
 
“I have some clean, dry clothing at my hut.
 
We can then figure out what to do about your young samurai.”

What about the Tengu?
Kasumi asked.

“They’re not going anywhere,” Tenko said.

That’s not what I meant.

“What did you mean?”

How are we going to get Akira and Ikumi back?
 
Despite herself, her tone became exasperated.
 
We’re here.
 
We should find them.

“The Tengu already know you’re looking for them and aren’t pleased that you’re here, young samurai.
 
But we don’t have the ability to match the Tengu’s power.
 
Not here.
 
Not now.
 
You can go on ahead, little Neko, but you won’t find what you’re looking for.
 
We need help.”

Help?
 
Kasumi looked at Tenko but couldn’t tell if the kitsune were playing another trick.
 
There is someone who can help us?

“If you know where to look,” Tenko assured her.
 
“Let’s go back to my hut, and I’ll see if I can’t find someone capable of matching these creatures.”

Kasumi nodded slowly.
 
Climb on my back, old man,
she said.
 
I’ll be able to get us there quicker if you ride.

Tenko picked up the rest of her things, careful to lay the samurai swords across her back.
 
“There’s more than one way to out-trick Tengu,” he said as he climbed on top of her.

I hope you’re right,
Kasumi said as she bounded forward.