you simply seek your own grave?" There were fifteen Lion, armed and armored in the colors of the Matsu, and they growled at the interruption of their sport.
"Ride on, ronin," called the leader of the Daidoji warriors, bravely ignoring the blood that stained his broken shoulder plate. "This is not your affair."
Hoturi recognized him as Daidoji Tashima, youngest son of a minor lord in the far southern lands of the Crane. He spoke with the confidence of a man who was not afraid of death and the calmness of a samurai who would not die alone.
"What's this?" Hoturi growled, lowering himself from the pony. "Fifteen men against three? The Lion have lost their honor. Let me find it for you."
Red-faced, the Lion lieutenant stepped toward Hoturi, his hand reaching dangerously for the hilt of his katana. "I am Matsu Hotakura, son of Matsu Demasu, third son of the General Ayoda. I served the Lion at the Battle of Kyu Pass, when the goblins of the Shadowlands slipped past the Wall ,ind dared threaten the village of Kien-shu. It was I," he began to shout, "who killed the ronin Hametsuda when he dared insult my lord. It was I who cut down the bandit lord Yugoro, and scarred his face so badly that his own children will not touch him for fear of receiving a similar wound. Who are you, filth, to question my honor?"
Stepping lightly away from his pony, Toshimoko shook his head in mild amusement.
Hoturi rocked from his toes to his heels as if pondering the Lion's question. "Who am I? I am the man who will kill you.
The silence that followed Hoturi's bold remark lasted only a single sharp moment. The Lion drew his sword.
Two strokes followed. Hoturi's blade slid past Hotakura's. Amazement grew on the Lion's face as a trickle of blood stained his lips. The Lion's hand crept through the open wound in his chest.
Pausing to shake the blood from his weapon, Doji Hoturi looked back at his opponent. Hotakura fell.
The other Lion scouts roared in fury. Together, they leaped forward. Two were dead before their hands could reach their weapons. Toshimoko spun lightly back toward the others, a smile on his lips.
Raising his sword in a vicious blow, a Matsu guardsman charged Hoturi. Twisting his blade, Hoturi slid it along his opponent's weapon. As the swords met, Hoturi lodged a solid kick between the man's ribs. The Lion staggered backward.
Two more took his place, their katanas shining in the scattered light.
Stunned into action, Daidoji Tashima raised his sword and screamed a fierce kiai shout. "You do not fight alone!" With a vicious slash, he struck the legs from under a charging Matsu.
The other two Crane samurai attacked, their faces pale. Even with the help of the unknown ronin, the odds were more than two to one.
Three Lion fought Hoturi, Leaping back, the young prince used terrain to his advantage. He parried one sword and then another, dodging beneath the low limbs of a pine. Behind him, the Lions' ornate armor was caught in the sticky sap of the evergreen. They were forced to cut through the low-hanging limbs.
Toshimoko meanwhile bickered cheerfully with another two samurai, correcting their movements.
"Too slow. Were you two trained by Matsu Kioda?" The Crane sensei smiled, deflecting a blade with a lightning-fast snap of his katana. "The man is old and weary. He has taught you to fight like old men!" Disarming one of the Matsu, Toshimoko slapped the other Lion on the rump with the flat of his blade. "Faster!" Pausing to stare angrily at the confused soldiers, Toshimoko pointed at the fallen blade. "Pick that up!" The Lion stumbled for his blade as his companion stepped back in shock. "Now, boy," Toshimoko took his stance and resheathed his blade, "try again."
Hoturi sliced through the shoulder straps of a Matsu's armor and lodged his sword in the samurai's throat. There was no rush of emotion as the Matsu fell, no overwhelming sense of right or wrong—only the knowledge that ten thousand more waited to the north.
Leaving a man
"Ride on, ronin," called the leader of the Daidoji warriors, bravely ignoring the blood that stained his broken shoulder plate. "This is not your affair."
Hoturi recognized him as Daidoji Tashima, youngest son of a minor lord in the far southern lands of the Crane. He spoke with the confidence of a man who was not afraid of death and the calmness of a samurai who would not die alone.
"What's this?" Hoturi growled, lowering himself from the pony. "Fifteen men against three? The Lion have lost their honor. Let me find it for you."
Red-faced, the Lion lieutenant stepped toward Hoturi, his hand reaching dangerously for the hilt of his katana. "I am Matsu Hotakura, son of Matsu Demasu, third son of the General Ayoda. I served the Lion at the Battle of Kyu Pass, when the goblins of the Shadowlands slipped past the Wall ,ind dared threaten the village of Kien-shu. It was I," he began to shout, "who killed the ronin Hametsuda when he dared insult my lord. It was I who cut down the bandit lord Yugoro, and scarred his face so badly that his own children will not touch him for fear of receiving a similar wound. Who are you, filth, to question my honor?"
Stepping lightly away from his pony, Toshimoko shook his head in mild amusement.
Hoturi rocked from his toes to his heels as if pondering the Lion's question. "Who am I? I am the man who will kill you.
The silence that followed Hoturi's bold remark lasted only a single sharp moment. The Lion drew his sword.
Two strokes followed. Hoturi's blade slid past Hotakura's. Amazement grew on the Lion's face as a trickle of blood stained his lips. The Lion's hand crept through the open wound in his chest.
Pausing to shake the blood from his weapon, Doji Hoturi looked back at his opponent. Hotakura fell.
The other Lion scouts roared in fury. Together, they leaped forward. Two were dead before their hands could reach their weapons. Toshimoko spun lightly back toward the others, a smile on his lips.
Raising his sword in a vicious blow, a Matsu guardsman charged Hoturi. Twisting his blade, Hoturi slid it along his opponent's weapon. As the swords met, Hoturi lodged a solid kick between the man's ribs. The Lion staggered backward.
Two more took his place, their katanas shining in the scattered light.
Stunned into action, Daidoji Tashima raised his sword and screamed a fierce kiai shout. "You do not fight alone!" With a vicious slash, he struck the legs from under a charging Matsu.
The other two Crane samurai attacked, their faces pale. Even with the help of the unknown ronin, the odds were more than two to one.
Three Lion fought Hoturi, Leaping back, the young prince used terrain to his advantage. He parried one sword and then another, dodging beneath the low limbs of a pine. Behind him, the Lions' ornate armor was caught in the sticky sap of the evergreen. They were forced to cut through the low-hanging limbs.
Toshimoko meanwhile bickered cheerfully with another two samurai, correcting their movements.
"Too slow. Were you two trained by Matsu Kioda?" The Crane sensei smiled, deflecting a blade with a lightning-fast snap of his katana. "The man is old and weary. He has taught you to fight like old men!" Disarming one of the Matsu, Toshimoko slapped the other Lion on the rump with the flat of his blade. "Faster!" Pausing to stare angrily at the confused soldiers, Toshimoko pointed at the fallen blade. "Pick that up!" The Lion stumbled for his blade as his companion stepped back in shock. "Now, boy," Toshimoko took his stance and resheathed his blade, "try again."
Hoturi sliced through the shoulder straps of a Matsu's armor and lodged his sword in the samurai's throat. There was no rush of emotion as the Matsu fell, no overwhelming sense of right or wrong—only the knowledge that ten thousand more waited to the north.
Leaving a man
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