Chapter Seven

3 0 0
                                    


"Oh, it's Shige," Zako called out. He stepped into the light, his ash-smudged face pale with alarm. "Praise the Buddha you're alright! Is Itsui alright? Oh, this is just like that battle a few years ago."

Kōichi doused the irori fire with some wet leaves. "Everyone is still up the mountain, Zako," he grunted. "Damn! The bandits were still here an hour ago."

Zako nodded his head, his stout body bouncing with the force. "Yes! I thought I was dead meat for sure, but they seemed to only want food."

Takuma stepped forward, patting the wall to gain his bearings. "Which way did the bandits go? When I find my lord in Kyōto, I can direct him to them."

"North," said Zako." If north-west or -east after that, I don't know. Also, uh, who are you?"

Takuma sighed and bowed." Takuma, servant to the samurai Shiba Hidemasa, at your service."

Precious time was being wasted. "Please, anyone," Shige said with urgency. "Did Eiichi ever return home?"

"Eh, no, but I hardly know when he ever leaves," said Kōichi. "Do you think there's a correlation?"

Shige was still unsure. "No, there were floods in Kyōto; I'm sure he's just held up."

"I imagine so," said Kōichi, seeming just as opposed to stating the obvious.

With final bows, Kōichi and Zako left the house. Exhausted and angry, Shige lay face-first on the floor. "I'm resting a moment, Takuma-san," she said into the dirt.

"It sounds comfortable," he said in reply.

She heard him untying his stiff cap, tapping it free of dust with a plock-plock-plock. Unsheathing his sword, he made a sniffing sound and a noise of derision.

"Needs reoiled," he muttered.

Sitting up, Shige wiped the dirt from her face. "What do we do now?"

"We wash up, eat something, and move on," Takuma replied.

A bath did sound wonderful after so long. The wash basin lay by the irori, still full of water from some incomplete chore. Grabbing a bucket, she filled it with water and sloshed it into the tub. All she had time to wash was her face and hands, passing her wet fingers through her hair in a feeble rinse. The guilt and exhaustion of the past few days melted away, and the warm water soothed Shige's tired muscles.

After tying her hair in her kerchief, Shige knelt beside where Takuma sat. His end of the irori was covered in a thin layer of ash, but the embers remained warm.

"What are you doing, Takuma-san?"

"Warming up, obviously... I... Warming up, that is. That's all. Nothing else."

Takuma's stern behavior was often barreled over by an underlying awkwardness; Shige felt endlessly bad for him, a man loyal to a samurai so callous. "I'll go grab some fresh clothing for the trip," she said. "You'll blend in better with less fancy clothes, you know? You wait here."

"Of course," he grunted.

Deep in the attic, hidden away among extra bedding, old toys, and boxes of seeds, Shige found her father's things. A bag of clothing and a single box were all that remained of his possessions; ten years ago, a bonfire excised all his "demons" away.

Hanging above them on the wall, his small hunting bow gathered cobwebs. Prying it free with a stick, Shige strung the bow over her shoulder.

"Takuma-san, I found clothing for you," she shouted down the stairs; summarily, she kicked the bag down. "There it is."

The bag slapped against the ground, but she didn't hear Takuma's footsteps after. Shige peeked down the stairs into the main hall; against a wall, his chin tucked into his chest, Takuma snored softly in sleep. With a shrug, Shige descended the stairs.

Near the irori, Shige opened the bag of clothing. The dust and moth rot rankled in her nostrils; she dumped the clothing free after much sneezing. Regrettably, Takumaawoke.

"Hey," he said with flailing fists. "You dare sneak up on Shiba Hidemasa? You slug-brained monkey, I..."

Sleep finally left him, and he straightened up; Shige simply folded clothing before him. "It's only me," she said. "I have clothing for you to try on."

"Never too late to practice," said Takuma with a blush. "Clothing--clothing, you say? Very good!"

Stifling a laugh, Shige turned to let him redress. He picked up a red kimono with white seams; wordlessly, Shige scooted a pair of shorts toward him.

As Takuma dressed, Shige examined the bow more closely. It was light but sturdy, and the string still held taught. She ran her fingers over the carvings, feeling the grooves where her father had etched patterns into the wood. With a sudden urge, she grabbed a quiver of arrows and headed out the door.

"Takuma-san, I'll be back in a moment," she called over her shoulder.

The sun was still low in the sky, casting a warm glow over the countryside. Shige navigated the fields, scanning the treeline for imaginary danger.

She had always been a skilled archer, but it had been years since she had held a bow. She pulled an arrow from the quiver and notched it on the string as she walked. She drew the bow back, feeling the tension build in her arm. With a quick release, the arrow flew through the air and embedded itself in a nearby tree, littering her hair with a shower of leaves.

Shige smiled to herself, satisfied by the clean shot. She pulled out another arrow and notched it on the string, aiming for a nearby fence post. The arrow hit its mark with a satisfying thunk, and Shige couldn't help but feel proud of herself.

As the sun began to set, Shige made her way back to the house, feeling invigorated. Takuma sat by the irori, a small fire crackling before him. He looked up as she entered, seeming to check if her footsteps were familiar.

Shige sat down beside him, feeling the warmth of the fire on her skin. "I found my father's bow in the attic," she said, holding up the weapon for Takuma to feel. "I think it's still in pretty good condition."

Takuma ran his fingers over the bow, feeling the carvings and the taught string. "It's a fine weapon," he said, "If you know how to use it."

"I used to be pretty good," Shige said, "But it's been a while since I've shot an arrow."

"If you'd like," said Takuma, "I could give you some pointers."

Shige nodded eagerly; at least it would show how well he could protect himself. "So, uh, when an enemy is in motion, how do you keep from missing the target? Fish are a smaller target than a whole grown man."

"You anticipate where he'll move next and pull back as he is moving. Any hint of stopping, you loose it. Aim for the neck or head," he said.

Shige winced; she could never imagine an arrow piercing her skull and didn't want to think how the enemy would feel. Her fingers grazed across the flint arrowhead; she would need more sturdy ones made of metal if she needed to kill.

Takuma sensed her hesitation and eased his posture. "Nobody likes killing--nobody good, as it were. Pray for their soul with each strike, I suppose. You seem to like prayer."

Shige nodded, reciting the Mantra of Light for the slaughtered pigs and for the future souls she might slay: "Praise be to the flawless, all-pervasive illumination of the great mudra. Turn over to me the jewel, lotus, and radiant light."

Takuma seemed to think this was pretentious, but he didn't respond. Prayers and mantras had been a part of Shige's life since she was small, but she could see how Takuma would feel distaste toward it.

"Did you want to take a nap before we head out again?" she said, changing the subject.

Takuma shook his head, "No, I think I've rested enough. We should make as much progress as we can before nightfall."

Shige nodded in agreement, rising to her feet. She placed the bow back in its bag, slinging it over her shoulder. "I'm ready when you are," she said.

Where the Reeds Grow ThickWhere stories live. Discover now