Warrior Born - Part 2

Part 2
Hikaru is at a gambling parlor run by a local gang, the Hachimoto.
***
“Place your bets.”
The dealer opened his arms before his audience. The merchant beside me hesitated but slid his chips forward. “Even,” he said, and wiped at his neck with a cloth. The eyes of the onlookers fell on me.
The dice clattered and throughout the rooms the dealers called for bets, odd or even. They sat like the statues of the saints, cross-legged before the crowds of pilgrims to the dice. Unlike the saints however their eyes held no kindness for their worshippers. They were the dice-men of the Hachimoto gang and they performed their craft beneath the vigil of the Hachimoto gangsters, with quick eyes and quicker blades. Stripped to the waist their bright tattoos ran thick over their arms and shoulders in twisting masses of great coiling dragons, fish and ghosts. “Come on come on, place your bets!” they called.
“Odd!” answered a chorus of voices. “Even,” said others, and the gamblers pushed their chips forward. The cup lifted and the unlucky groaned. Their heads fell in their hands and the gangsters drifted between them, laying heavy hands on the shoulders of the unfortunate. Broken by fate, the desperate were led away to meet the money-men of Boss Hachimoto. It was time for debts to be settled.
In the upper rooms of the parlour the crowds were thinning. Where I sat only the merchant and I still wagered our stakes, the thick wooden blocks stacked before us. The merchant fanned his face with an open hand. The air was still cool but he sweated under the bright light of the candles. During the day his trade prospered and his comfortable lifestyle showed in his round face. His hair was thin and lank and a small, pointed beard lined his chin in a poor mimicry of the courtiers.
His brow danced with irritation and his patience stretched until he could ignore me no longer. He glared at me, his cheeks red from wine. “What are you waiting for?” he demanded.
I took a long draw and let the stream of smoke coil around my head. Through the reek of smoke and sweat I caught the innocent scent of the plum blossoms that lined the street. The winter was thawing. Tomorrow the Emperor would pass though the city.
You shouldn’t be here.
I reached for my cup, hoping the wine would numb my guilt.
“Are you placing your bet or not?” the dealer demanded.
My companion stroked the back of my arm, watching the dealer’s irritation. “Hikaru, you’ve been lucky tonight,” she cooed. She held my eyes for a moment longer before lowering her gaze.
The evening’s wine was good and its release allowed me to wallow in her affections. Konoka was an attractive woman, but beneath her coiffure and powdered face hid the weariness of her day’s trade. Her eyes betrayed a quiet desperation and I recognized her desire. She yearned for an escape from the night, a brief respite before the new day brought its promise of the same as the last. It was all a show, a practiced manipulation perfected on wealthy merchants and weary courtiers.
I tapped the bowl of my pipe into a pot of embers. “Let’s make this interesting,” I said. I propped my sword against my shoulder and motioned to Konoka with a lazy flick of my hand. “Odd,” I commanded. Konoka smiled. She was enjoying her role in my game and slid the chips toward the dealer.
The cup lifted. “The winner is, odd!” Konoka clapped her hands in delight while the crowd muttered behind me. The dealer’s rake dragged away the merchant’s stake.
“Seems like your luck has changed,” I said. He growled and flashed me a dark look, but his eyes fell on my sword.
I felt a presence behind me. With a glance over the rim of my cup, I noticed the dealer’s eyes flitter past my shoulder. It was only the briefest of glances but it was one I was expecting. Though my mind was numbed by alcohol my ears sharpened as the dice bounced and the cup fell. The dealer was good, but something sounded different, something felt wrong. I allowed myself a smirk. This was my world.
“My best regards, now place your bets,” said the dealer.
The merchant clutched the last of his chips in his hand, offering a silent prayer before sliding them forward. “Odd,” he said.
“I think I will sit this one out,” I said. The dealer’s face froze.
“You can’t sit out, the dice are thrown,” said the merchant.
The dealer nodded. “It is customary to excuse yourself before the throw,” he warned.
“There are many customs of the dice, do we always observe them all?” Our eyes matched. Again his gaze flickered over my shoulder and I caught the slight nod.
Reluctantly he lifted the cup. “Odd,” he announced.
The merchant’s face fell and he flinched as a heavy hand rested on his shoulder. "The time has come to settle your debts," a voice growled. The merchant peered into the impassive face of the gang's enforcer. The tall swordsman leaned over him. He trembled beneath the weight of the thug’s grip.
"I can win it back,” he pleaded. How many times had the enforcer heard the same before?
Konoka shivered. A look flashed between her and the swordsman. He threw me a look of contempt and his grip tightened. "Let's go. It will be troublesome if you can't pay what you owe," he said.
The merchant was led through the crowd of gamblers. How much the gang would take? Would he be forced to settle the debt with his livelihood, or perhaps his wife or daughter? I shook my head at the uncomfortable thought. "I can't understand why someone with so much to lose would gamble it away," I said.
Konoka watched the man's misery distantly. Once he had disappeared from the room, she clutched my sleeve. "Are you going to claim your stakes?" she asked.
"Who was that swordsmen?"
Her expression sharpened. "You think I know?" she asked tartly.
"You don't?"
She looked away. "His name is Daisuke. He's just a mouth with a sword who thinks he's a big man because he's some relative of the Taira.”
“Daisuke,” I muttered, testing the sound of the name in my memory.
“He used to be one of the Imperial Guard," said Konoka. She watched my reaction with mild amusement.
“One of the Keibishi?”
Konoka shrugged. “There was some trouble,” she said. I tapped the last of the embers from my pipe and tucked it into my sleeve. Daisuke pushed through the crowd, with the Hachimoto gangsters swaggering behind him. It seemed their work with the merchant was finished.
“Looks like the dog has taken a new master,” I said.
One of the gangsters whispered to Daisuke, but the swordsman brushed him away. His eyes never left Konoka, who wilted beneath his glare. She pulled on my sleeve. "It's a nice night, we could go for a walk somewhere," she said.
"And do what?"
She leaned into me. "You are so crass. What is it that men and women do in privacy?"
I reached again for my drink. Daisuke’s eyes caught mine and, for a moment, I returned his stare. I could feel his thoughts, cold and hard, as they formed in his mind. The gamblers cleared his path as he neared and dropped onto the cuishion beside Konoka. She edged nearer to me and I felt her tremble.
"Working tonight Konoka?" he asked. She didn't look up. "I haven't seen you in a while.”
"I've been busy," she replied.
He scowled. "On your back?" he asked bitterly.
For the first time she looked him directly in the eyes. "They will catch up with you one day,” she said. Barely had the words left her mouth before she yelped in surprise.
"You don’t know when to shut-up," Daisuke growled, snatching hold of her wrist. They fought, but Daisuke’s grip was like steel. Konoka sagged, surrendering to his strength.
“Brother?” One of the gangsters tapped a hand on Daisuke’s shoulder. He was hesitant to interrupt them, but the outburst drew the eyes of the patrons and made the gangsters uncomfortable. It would be awkward if a disturbance arose and Boss Hachimoto would not be pleased. "Come on Daisuke," he said, but cowered when Daisuke turned on him. The distraction was enough for Konoka to tug her wrist free from his grasp.
"Hikaru, let's go," she pleaded.
"Go on and get out," Daisuke snapped at me. “Take this whore with you.”
I reached for my drink. "Is that any way to treat a patron? I'd thought the Hachimoto would want the chance to win their money back," and at this, my eyes flashed the dealer. “Though perhaps they’ve already tried.” .
“What’s this?” the dealer asked. He scowled, masking his surprise at my frankness. Beside me Daisuke pulled his scabbard from his girdle. It thumped against the matting. He carried a heavy weapon, designed for efficiency rather than show. "Take your winnings and go while you can,” he said, his voice low.
I shrugged off the threat. "And go where? This is the only house open. How did you manage that, are the Keibishi scared of you?”
Daisuke studied me. "The guardsmen don't trouble us. I am of the Taira," he said.
I lowered my cup. “Perhaps you’re better acquainted with the Keibishi than most.”
A look flashed between the gangsters. They glanced anxiously at Daisuke, who smirked. He nodded in to himself in some private understanding and then stabbed a finger at my sword. “You think that blade can earn you some money, are you prepared to wager your life on that?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Every fool who carries a sword thinks himself the reincarnation of Hachimantaro.”
I snorted. “Hachimantaro, the War God’s Son,” I interpreted. “I thought that title belonged to Lord Yoshida of the Genji?” I asked. The Genji and the Taira were ancient warrior-born clans and the deepest rivals. “ A strange thing for the Taira to say.” I traced a finger over the hilt of my sword. It was bound in white braid and the guard was decorated with orchids, littered between the coils of a dragon. “Does that mean anything to you?”
“I don’t recognize your sword and I don’t care,” he said, thinking I meant to intimidate him with my reputation. I laughed. I had learnt everything I needed to know. “That’s funny?” he asked.
"The air is a little hot in here, could you talk less?"
It was a moment before anger replaced shock. “What?” he roared and lept to his feet. His hand clutched at his sword. Konoka cried out, springing away from me as though she expected him to strike my head from my shoulders where I sat.
Suddenly the parlor was filled with panicked cries, but not from Daisuke. Gangsters pushed through the crowd, their eyes wide in alarm as they sought him out. “Brother, come fast!” they cried. Our fight was forgotten. Daisuke rushed to the balcony where the gamblers and gangsters leaned over the railing. In the hall below a band of men forced their way through the door, the light catching the steel of their weapons. They wore armor fashioned in the style of the ancients and most carried short, straight-bladed swords. Their breastplates were lacquered black, adorned in gold leaf stylized in the crest of a cherry blossom. They were the Keibishi, the Imperial Guard.
The crowd stumbled away from them, pushing past the Hachimoto gangsters as the lead guardsman stepped forward. Everything marked him as warrior-born. He was tall and broad-shouldered and his face round but lean. The other Keibishi let their hair fall over their shoulders beneath their caps, but the leader had foregone his cap and tied his hair in thick, wavy locks behind his head. He had also bound the wide sleeves of his tunic with a rope that looped over his shoulders and behind his back. His sword, twice the length of those of his fellows, was clutched in one hand. Like mine it was bound in white braid.
"I am Matsuo of the Guard," he announced. “By Imperial Decree, this house is closed.” His sword lowered as he motioned to the other Keibishi “Turn them out.”
At the end of the balcony a door slid open, spilling a pale light. Three of the gangsters sidled out, their hands clutched at the knives thrust into their sashes. They scuttled from their boss as he waved them aside.
“What is this?” muttered Boss Hachimoto and peered down at the Keibishi without apparent concern.
"We’ve come for Daisuke,” called Matsuo. “We know he’s working for the Hachimoto," He peered through the faces of the crowd. Near me there was the scrape of steel as Daisuke loosened the blade in its scabbard.
Boss Hachimoto raised an eyebrow. “So what if he does? He is of the Taira, something can be arranged,” he said.
“The man abandoned his post and killed a constable trying to apprehend him. The Commissioner demands he atone with his life. Surrender him, then turn everyone out. You’re closing for the night,” he said.
Boss Hachimoto considered this for a moment. “Matsuo of the Keibishi, I’ve heard your name,” he said slowly. “You are of the Genji?” A grin spread across his lips when Matsuo did not reply. He whispered to one of his subordinates, who then disappeared into the room behind them. When he returned he pressed something into his boss’s hands. Boss Hachimoto weighed it thoughtfully and then tossed it to the room below. It clattered to the ground at Matsuo's feet and I saw the glint of gold. "That should cover your trouble, Master Matsuo of the Genji," said the boss.
"Boss Hachimoto, you've been warned. Either surrender him or I come up and take you in his place," Matsuo said.
Expecting a fight the gamblers shuffled to the walls. To my surprise, the boss chuckled.
“Do you think this an opportunity to spit on the Taira?” The boss laughed.
I understood Matsuo’s frustration. A man could quietly disappear if the Hachimoro so willed. An hour’s march from the capital and the Keibishi were powerless.
“Enough of this,” spat the boss. “Take the money and go.”
Matsuo scowled. He nodded to the crowd. "Turn them out," he told his fellows.
Before they could move the room was filled by the long, silken hiss of a blade being drawn. The crowd parted and Daisuke stood at the foot of the stairs. "Merciful Kannon," I cursed. I hadn’t seen him creep through the crowd. The gamblers saw their opportunity and rushed to the doors.
Daisuke ignored them. “Thinking to make a name?” he asked Matsuo.
Matsuo grimaced. His eyes darted to either side and I could see his dilemma. If he backed down the little authority carried by the Keibishi would disintegrate, but to fight was certain folly. His brow creased as he reached his decision. The guardsman lifted his sword and ushered his men behind him. “The fool,” I said. Daisuke’s reputation had spread and men whispered of his talent with the sword.
Konoka tugged on my sleeve. "There is a way out the back," she urged, but I pulled free of her grasp. I had to move quickly. I pushed my way through the terrified throng of people as the two swordsmen squared against each other.
“Daisuke, you were of the guard,” said Matsuo. “You are still warrior-born. Surrender yourself, I can give you a good death.”
Daisuke spat at the ground. “Better men than you have tried,” he said. He rounded his opponent and nodded to the Keibishi. "Is this what has become of the Keibishi?” He spat.
"If you two are going to fight then fight," I called out. Both warriors turned to me.
"What’s this?" Daisuke muttered.
"Too much talk, Daisuke. You swagger when you walk, perhaps a prick from my sword will let the hot air out?"
"What in the hells are you doing here?" Matsuo asked.
"Consider yourself lucky."
Daisuke watched our exchange in disbelief. "You're of the Keibishi?" he asked, barely concealing his surprise. He eyes took in the gambling house and chuckled. “A fine example you are.”
“I never killed my fellows, and killing you will not change that. Matsuo offered you an honorable death, but I am not so kind.” I squared my stance.
Daisuke shrugged. "It’s all the same to me. I would have killed you sooner or later." His eyes fell on my sword. "Too scared to draw?"
"It's been a good night and I'm feeling generous. Perhaps if you beg for your life now I’ll let you keep your head. You can face your sins, whether later or here on the edge of my sword.”
“You talk to me of sins? If you wish your soul to cross the Sanzu River then let me oblige you.”
“Show me the moves that made you famous,” I said. The light caught his teeth as he returned my smile.
Daisuke was fast. I expected him to attack with brute force as he was far bigger than me. Instead he leapt and his sword slid through the air in a series of fast slashes. I stepped quickly to evade the lethal blade.
“Interesting,” I said, as Daisuke broke away. “That is something else, something more than the eight cuts.”
Daisuke measured my reaction. I escaped his opening flurry. “We’ve not all been privileged from birth. “My life is forged on the blade. You will experience my craft.”
“I will enjoy this,” I said. Daisuke roared. I let his sword slide toward my eyes, doubled my step and then stooped beneath the stroke. At that instant my blade snapped from its scabbard and the tip flicked toward his neck. Realizing the trap his sword turned and he swatted at my blade, narrowly checking my thrust before it speared his throat. He sprang backward to give himself space and then touched a hand to his neck. A thin line of blood smeared beneath his fingertips.
“You’re fast,” I told him. “That might surprise some, but your movements are too rigid. You can’t hope to win.”
“Who are you?” he demanded.
I raised my sword. “You of anyone, Taira, should know this white hilt.”
His expression turned to hatred.
“Genji.” He laughed. “The Genji brought my ruin. How fortuitous I am to return the favour.”
“You brought your own ruin.” When I attacked the surprise in his eyes turned to alarm. He pitched away from my blade and crashed through the doorway. The echo of our blades rang down the street. Panic erupted behind us as the Keibishi turned the gamblers out. They scrambled around us as we fought. Our blades flickered in the cool night air and after another exchange Daisuke summoned a great burst of strength. He battered my blade away with a cry. I reeled beneath the blow and he stood over me, his breath heavy. The blood streamed from his neck but I could see the victory in his eyes.
“This ends here,” he said.
“You’re too late,” I replied, “I’ve already finished it.”
Daisuke’s brow knotted in confusion before his body registered the pain. He winced and his hand trembled as he reached for the side of his robes. A long, vicious wound gaped where my blade had slid against his ribs. His balance faltered and the sword fell from his fingers. "I was mistaken," he managed between laboured breaths. He sank to his knees. I found my feet and Daisuke stretched his neck, ready for his fate. I raised my sword.
Daisuke snickered, blood flecking on his lips. “Heaven’s justice is met. How fitting it is one such as you to deliver that fate.”
“You talk to much.” My sword flashed and when it fell so did Daisuke. I flicked my sword to loosen the blood that trickled down its length. Matsuo sidled up to me and shook his head.
“He was a good swordsman. What were you thinking?” I asked.
“I was thinking that had you been here I wouldn’t be facing this murderer on my own.”
“I was here.” I stooped over the body, snatching the hem of a sleeve to wipe my sword clean.
“You who complained Yuto sent you from the Capital, yet even on this night you find the only dice game running."
“Lucky for you I was!” My anger cooled. "It was just one night, the days here are so dull.
“You’ve been here four days.”
“Yes, and already the tedium pushed me to madness.” I sighed. "You'll tell Yuto?"
Matsuo considered this for a moment. "No, but don’t look so relieved. Yuto has his own way of finding things out." He studied Daisuke’s corpse. “It was a gamble to come here. There was nowhere else public he could be. I don’t understand why he didn’t just flee, however. He must’ve expected we would come here. Did he really expect to rely on the Hachimoto?”
“His woman was here, she is one of the prostitutes,” I said.
“And you knew that?”
“It was information I discovered.”
The crowd was thinning and we were joined by the rest of the Keibishi. They turned out the last of the gamblers. Seeing they weren't to be arrested the gamblers disappeared down the street, anxious to be far away in case the Keibishi changed their minds..
“Best clear this up before the monks find out,” said Matsuo, nodding to Daisuke. “How wearisome.” I laughed and dropped my hand on the shoulder.
"Poor Matsuo," I teased. He slapped me away.
"Idiot. Pity me that I am left to nurse a monkey, playing at being warrior-born."
***