In the corner of the inn sat a tall, thin man. Grey speckled his hair, thick at the temples. His face was deeply tanned and lined, but the way he held himself made it clear he was a samurai, even without the two swords he carried. Behind him, leaned against the wall, was a long yari. His hands were long-fingered, strong. His arms were corded with muscle. But his breathing sometimes laboured, and he coughed frequently.
Takenoshita Yabu waved away the innkeeper after another short coughing fit, then changed his mind and ordered more sake. He was drinking too much, too often, and he knew it. But it didn't seem to matter. It had been two decades since the death of his Lord in battle. Twenty years of rootless existence, meaningless fighting, honorless jobs as bodyguard for a merchant, temporary hires for a battle or short war. The chances of obtaining a position in service to a lord had seemed so close, and never bore fruit. Now he was old for a warrior. His contemporaries were mostly dead, or maimed, or retired into a position as a military advisor or respected retainer. What chance now for a position of honour? It seemed certain that he would die a ronin. No treasured death in honourable service. Not for old Yabu. He drained his sake and refilled the small cup.
The words of a poem came to him. He got out his worn inkstone and a sheet of mulberry paper and wrote it down.
Autumn in Sendai's brocade hills
Leaves find a death of such beauty
A man's sad end pales
Poems seek out the unsteady hand
Words dropping from the brush
Like leaves.
Still awake at first light
Eyes red as the sunrise
Letting no leaf escape
So many leaves adrift
On this chill wind.
Old men drink sake and try to forget early days
It is enough to ache from damp mornings
To ache from memories too
Is more than a man can bear.
The roads were full of ronin this autumn. The end of the Clan wars had not brought peace, just a temporary lull. Edo was in ruins. Masterless samurai were everywhere, and many had turned to banditry for survival. Even here, in isolated Seidan province, there were too many bandits for the local lords to root out.
Yabu walked down the road towards Ariki, the largest town in the Arai fiefdom. He stayed well back from the merchant's bearers to avoid the dust they raised. He had started out walking with them but had dropped back gradually, unable to control his coughing, until now he had found clear air several hundred yards behind. He still saw the merchant glance at him now and again.
The merchant's two guards were poor stuff. They walked like strutting cocks among the peasants, and sneered at him from a distance, but their spears were poorly cared-for.
Suddenly they became poorer stuff indeed. One of them sprouted an arrow in his back, low down. He fell screaming, twisting on his stomach like a dog. The other dropped his spear and ran in fear, leaving the merchant shouting after him and the drovers in confusion.
Yabu faded into the bamboo at the side of the road as the bandits came out ahead of him, around the merchant. His experienced eyes scanned them from the brush. One bow. Five others, all with pole weapons or spears. No armour to speak of. Merely desperate ashigaru.
The first warning the bandits had was when their bowman screamed, staring at the spearhead that protruded from his sternum. As he fell, he revealed Yabu behind him, staring coldly at them where they were beating the merchant.
"KIIIIAIAAAAAAAIIII!!!" Yabu screamed his warshout, leaping among the shocked bandits. Whirling his spear around him in a spray of blood he cut down one and wounded two before they could react. One of the wounded turned to run, clutching his bleeding arm. The other yelled in anger, blood running down his leg, but that changed to a scream of agony as Yabu's next thrust pierced his abdomen.
There was a moment of silence as the two remaining bandits stared at the ronin.
The bandit chief put his knife to the merchant's throat. "One more step, and he'll smile in crimson."
Yabu nodded. "An honorable death, one that a merchant can rarely aspire to." The merchant's eyes bugged out in shock.
The bandit snarled and threw the merchant down, grabbing his bisento. The other bandit stepped forward carefully, holding his nagemaki ready to strike.
Five seconds later, Takenoshita Yabu leaned over the last bandit to wipe his spear clean of blood.
An hour later they approached the bridge over the Shionori river. To their north was Ariki, their objective. A group of Arai retainers stood on the bridge talking to the merchant's missing guard. The group turned as the merchant's party approached.
"... but Master Yoshitaku, how did you escape?" The missing guard seemed dumbfounded.
"No thanks to you, that is certain!"
"I ran to get help! I saw it was hopeless, and that your only hope was if I could bring help." The guard sounded self-righteous, as if he was assuring the Arai retainers as much as his employer.
"We needed no help. This ronin attacked the bandits and saved my goods," the merchant waved at Yabu, who stood in the back silently.
The guard puffed up his chest. "Him? But he was in collusion with them! He was a spy for the bandits, I saw that right from the start!"
The captain of the Arai retainers looked over the blustering guard, and then looked carefully over Yabu. The ronin looked shabby and unkempt, but his weapons were well-kept and he stood with the bearing of a Samurai.
Yabu stepped forward, dropping a bag he had been carrying. It spilled open, showing its contents: five bandit heads. "That is an insult, and you must answer for it." The loud-mouthed guard paled, realizing what he had said. He looked around, but the Arai retainers watched him with cool eyes. He had no choice.
Under the watchful eyes of the Arai retainers, Yabu and the guard stood five paces apart with their spears. The captain looked at them both, then spoke. "Begin!"
As soon as it began, it was over. The guard slumped to the ground, Yabu's spear imbedded in his skull. The guard had not even moved.
The captain smiled appreciatively, stroking his beard, then spoke. "It is said the blade is the soul of the samurai. Yours seems thirsty."
Yabu shrugged slightly, cleaning his spear blade.
Renshi turned to the guards and gestured. "You. Arrange some heiman to set those heads on stakes away from the end of the bridge. And you - take the ronin to the castle to collect his reward."
As they crossed the bridge and started up the steep street through the town, the spearmen turned to Yabu and asked "Five bandits and not one wound on you. Have you studied at Tendo or Hozo-in?"
"I was at Tendo, but only briefly. Do not make too much of the bandits -- they were poor fighters."
The guard nodded and then said "You've caught the Hatamoto's eye. He favours the spear too. If you are looking to enter service, I can show you his residence -- if you wish to speak with him, wait there."
Yabu's step faltered for a second. "I am currently unemployed." He took several steps before continuing. "Your offer is courteous, and I thank you for it. I will speak with .... the Hatamoto."