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What are clouds?
Except an excuse for the sky
What is life?
Except an excuse for death.
Oda found Lodge to be, at times, very easy to irritate, and even harder to please. When they had returned to his Aunt’s place, Lodge had taken off his shoes, leant his katana against the door, sat down, and not spoken. Every time Oda looked over at Lodge, he looked as though he was thinking intently.
Oda realised that he and his new friend were going to be a favourite topic of gossip for a little while. After all, it wasn’t everyday that the town had a master swordsman fighting armed assailants in the middle of the street, and it was even rarer for that layabout Oda to be in his company. Oda sighed and spoke “Hey, Lodge-san? Do you wanna go gambling tonight?”
Shogun Lodge looked up at the round faced peasant. “Yes.” He replied and returned to his contemplations, though slightly less concerned. Oda punched the air triumphantly.
“Bets?”
Oda looked at Lodge who held up three fingers, then four. “Odds,” Oda said. Sure enough, it was a three and a four. Oda did a jig and Lodge continued to build. The caster rolled his dice again, pushing the bowl forward. Lodge motioned for Oda to bet evens, and he did, winning again. Over in the corner with his money and his monumental stack of chits, the owner had become worried. Twelve koban. He wasn’t sure the gambling house had that much money. He wasn’t sure anyone had that amount of money. He looked pointedly at the doorman, who in turn looked pointedly at the dice caster.
The thin, tattooed man swapped his dice with another two and held them up. “Any objections?” he asked, as there were none, he dropped them into his bowl. Lodge’s ears twitched. The caster slammed the bowl down and pushed it forward. “Be-“ he began, but Lodge spoke up.
“Why have you changed the dice, my friend?” he asked, and his London Bridge collapsed. The owner looked too stunned to really deny it. Lodge surveyed the room, narrowed his eyebrows and unsheathed his sword. The flash that followed took off the caster’s head, sending it sailing into the house owner’s lap. He screamed as Lodge tipped the low table over and climbed to his feet. He turned backwards around the bouncer as he lunged for Lodge with a knife. The tip of Lodge’s katana burst from the bouncer’s chest and he fell to the ground, sliding from the steel that transfixed him. Shogun Lodge took the bag that held the gambling house’s money from the old man who was still staring at the severed head “Come Oda.” Lodge said pleasantly and they left.
“Was that really necessary?” Oda asked, his eyes still lingering upon the gambling den.
As they walked Shogun Lodge spoke “Something you will have to learn about me Oda is that I do not deal well with cheats.”
“No, you don’t.” Oda noted as they strode down the street.
“I’ve known several cheats in my time, and each one regretted cheating me.” Oda imagined beheadings in their dozens. “I’ve removed hands and legs and ears. Cheaters never win, and often they die.” He gestured with both hands in a standard mannerism without stopping. Lodge sighed and turned to look at Oda “This is my life, you know?” Oda nodded in reply “It’s odd isn’t it.”
“Neh?” Lodge asked, half turning. The wood struck him, one piece to the left shoulder, another to his back on the right side and finally on the head. The impacts spun him anticlockwise and knocked him down. Lodge rubbed his head and looked at the old thin woman. “No offence Yuriko-san, but it isn’t exactly safe to distract someone when falling objects are involved.” Lodge stood up and started standing his uncut logs on top of each other, till they made a wobbly tower as tall as he was.
Aunt Yuriko sighed dramatically as her guest brought his sword above his head “That is over the top Lodge-san.” The blade flashed and the pieces fell in two.
“Worked, did it not?” he sheathed his weapon. The question was obviously rhetorical so Aunt Yuriko saw fit not to answer.
Instead she saw fit to say “You’ve made a name for yourself already it seems.”
“Have I?” he asked innocently.
She continued “Oh yes. Not only did you kill those assassins, you decapitated Boss Tanaka’s chief caster.”
“So I did.”
“They say Tanaka has found himself a powerful bodyguard, so he may destroy his rival, Boss Matsumoto.”
He sat down cross legged with his sword hilt under his nose “Interesting.” He noted. “I believe that Oda worked for Matsumoto once.”
“That’s right,” Aunt Yuriko looked into the trees “I’m glad he got out when he did, before these gang wars started.”
“Gang wars? I must have missed them.” Missed gang wars? In his head he went over how difficult that would be. Very, he decided.
“Oh it’s very quiet. Lord Iyeasu likes quiet.”
Lodge considered Iyeasu carefully. What was he doing exactly? Not a lot, really, Lodge said inwardly, Just sitting on one of the Ryu-Kyuu islands letting his peasants do what they liked. Was there anything wrong with that?
Nothing, that’s what. What was wrong was Oda’s adamant belief that he had seen Gori. But Gori was gone. Lodge tapped his nose slowly with his sword’s hilt and considered. He was not here to kill demons. Japan could deal with that themselves. “I think I may have made a grave and irreparable mistake Yuriko-san.” She looked surprised.
“How’s that Lodge-san?” she asked.
“I came back.”
Midori’s sickness had taken away much of her effortless beauty. Her hair had lost its sheen and her complexion was pallid. She could feel herself weakening everyday, every hour. But if Midori felt her body weakening, she would be damned if she would let it show. She tucked the handkerchief into the sleeve of her kimono as she heard her husband approach their room.
The shoji door opened and Hattori stepped inside, his feet shoeless, his two swords tucked into his obi. He knelt down in front of his wife. She could see blood under his nails. Midori tried to see his face, but he was looking down at the woven reed mat.
“Midori-san.” He began his voice quiet “I am sorry. I am yet to find the Doctor they speak of.” His hands clenched tightly “But I will, I swear it.”
Midori frowned as she sat up properly. It took her only a small exertion of will to prevent herself from chastising him. It is foolish; she would have said had she done, you worry yourself to much on a wife who cannot fulfil her duties to you. But it would not have mattered. Hattori would have continued on anyway. Samurai are born stubborn, and stay that way.
“Husband,” she said, taking his hands in hers.
“Take those off.” Lodge snapped grabbing them by the corner of the frame.
“But I’ve never seen anything like them.” Oda watched Shogun Lodge deposit them on his face.
“Unsurprising. But they don’t fit you.”
Oda grumbled quietly as he looked down at the sluggish river “Just because you have such an enormous nose.”
“I heard that.”
They were skimming stones; or rather Lodge was teaching Oda how to skim stones. Shogun Lodge showed Oda a flat pebble and flung it onto the water. It skipped several times before it sunk down below the surface. “Wow.” Oda said, perhaps more in awe than with the sunglasses. Lodge passed Oda a stone and motioned for him to throw.
It hit the surface, then down below to sink to the riverbed. He looked crestfallen. “Never mind. It took me a decade to get.”
“A decade?”
“A decade.” Lodge confirmed, pulling a rice ball from his suit jacket. Oda moaned. “I’m glad I’m in the Ryu-Kyuu islands. You eat meat here. One can only just eat fish for a little while.” He took a bite out of the rice ball and chewed thoughtfully. Oda stared at Lodge for a moment, stone poised in his hand.
What a weirdo. He thought. His pebble hit the water with a loud plop.
“The boss’ll see you now.” Omi said, jerking his thumb toward the door. As Naota walked passed, he noticed that Omi was wearing half a tassel. “What?” he asked and Naota smiled.
Boss Tanaka sat in his kimono. There wasn’t a lot else you could do in a kimono in the privacy of your own home. It’s the same with most forms of clothing. “Naota my most profitable employee,” Tanaka rumbled jovially, “Aren’t you a little early?”
“Sorry Boss, but that’s why I’m here. All the money was stolen.”
Tanaka blinked. The smile dripped from his face “What?”
“And Miki-san is dead, as is my chief caster.”
“But the money, who stole the money? Whoever it is will pay.” Tanaka had his fists clenched tightly around his tanto.
“It was that stranger from the mainland.” Naota finished “I’ve never seen someone move that fast.”
Boss Tanaka tapped his fingertips together then brightened considerably. “Omi-san,” he called. His lieutenant stuck his head into the room. “How good would you say our new bodyguard is?”
“Hattori-san? Oh, he’s very good.”
“Good, good. Tell him; tell him that he has a very important job to do.”
Hattori stood watching the scene with no expression on his face. Oda tossed the stone and it skipped once before plunging beneath the surface. He began to jump up and down and turned to speak to Lodge, and when he did so he saw Hattori. “Oh,” he said “Uh, Lodge-san, I think you have a visitor.”
“Thankyou Oda. How timely of you to tell me.” Shogun Lodge had not moved, or even opened his eyes. Hattori took offence to that, and spoke up.
“Lodge-san. I believe you have some money of my employer’s. I think he’d like it back.”
“Tell your employer that he can’t have it back, because it’s mine.”
Hattori sighed, and unsheathed his sword languidly. “I didn’t exactly come to ask.” He walked forward. Lodge put his sunglasses on and stood up, his hand gripped around the hilt of his weapon. As he stood the sheath slipped from the blade and they both stood only twenty metres apart.
Hattori brought his sword up in front of him in both hands breaking into a run. Lodge strode forward with his katana by his side. As they came within reach, Hattori slashed downward, his blade flashed and Lodge leapt back, the tip of the sword coming within an inch of him. Lodge took the hilt in both hands and swung his blade at Hattori’s neck. The ronin ducked and sliced upward at Lodge’s groin. He parried the blow, their swords making a ringing clash and bounced backward.
They straightened up, metres apart.
Lodge was pleased, this Hattori was good. He charged forward, the downward blow arcing towards the point where neck met shoulder. Hattori blocked the blow, the blunt edge of his katana pushing against his skin. He pushed upwards, knocking Lodge’s sword off his own. Hattori struck forward toward Lodge’s chest.
Shogun Lodge dropped onto one hand, swinging his feet out towards Hattori’s legs. The samurai leapt over them as Lodge settled into a crouch, fingers pressing into the soft earth. Sweet lens flare, he thought to himself as sunlight glinted from Hattori’s falling sword. The curving blade-tip hovered above the grass. Lodge swung it up in a whip like arc and easily caught the blow. Hattori flipped over Lodge’s head, his blade screaming as it ground off of Lodge’s.
Hattori spun as he landed just as Lodge did the same. Their blades clashed together and bounced off each other. Lodge brought his sword down again almost catching Hattori off guard.
The ronin was forced backwards by the Lodge’s blows. This wanderer was stronger and faster than anyone Hattori had ever fought with before. As Hattori leant back and angled a wide swing away with his katana, he was reminded of Jozen. As Lodge brought his amazing blade back down, Hattori rose to meet it, so that both swords we’re held above their heads, and so that he and Lodge were nose to nose.
Shogun Lodge considered Hattori in front of him. Perhaps he was a worthy adversary after all. The Lodge grabbed the front of the ronin’s kimono and hauled him from the ground. With a heave, Lodge twisted around and hurled his opponent across the grassy earth, Hattori’s katana bouncing well past him. Hattori began to push himself up, but Shogun Lodge rested his blade against the back of his neck.
“I wouldn’t move, if I were you.” Lodge yawned widely. Hattori did not reply and instead reached up and yanked on Lodge’s weapon, pulling him over his head. As Lodge hit the ground and rolled to his feet, Hattori did the same, turning into Lodge’s hand.
Hattori staggered back and squinted through the pain as Lodge attacked again, his left hand snapping into Hattori’s jaw, sending the ronin tumbling across the grass. He rolled once onto his haunches, drawing his wakazashi smoothly.
“You really should give up . . .” he paused briefly “Whoever you are.” Hattori straightened up “I don’t want to kill you. If I give you the money back, will you stop attacking me?”
“Yes.”
“Well.” Lodge said, reaching into his suit jacket and pulled out a large, lumpy bag and tossed to Hattori, who let it fall to his feet. The ronin bent down and picked up the bag. He sheathed his short blade and walked past Lodge, picking up his fallen sword on his way back to the road. As Hattori walked away, Lodge turned to look over at Oda, who was picking up the fallen sword.
“Here you go, Lodge-san.” Oda said amiably, handing the weapon to its owner. “But why did you just give him the money? Surely you could have beaten him.”
“That Oda, is never a certainty.”
“So, he’s dead?” Tanaka asked.
“No.” Hattori replied.
“Baka!” Tanaka shouted, smashing his drinking bowl. “Why didn’t you kill him?”
As Omi shuffled uncomfortably near the door, Hattori raised his eyebrows “I wasn’t contracted to kill him, just to get your money back, Boss.” Tanaka narrowed his eyes at the new bodyguard, then smiled.
“Eh, I like you. He’s got a point, doesn’t he Omi?”
“Uh, yeah Boss.” Omi replied with a quiet sigh.
“Come bodyguard, drink sake with me!” Tanaka said jovially, motioning for the ronin to sit. Hattori did so, even though the idea repulsed him. The boss poured sake into a drinking bowl and passed it to Hattori.
“Thankyou very much, Boss Tanaka.” Hattori said, even as his stomach turned. Remember Midori He told himself Remember the doctor. He took a sip of the rice wine and noted that it was excellent, a mark that Tanaka had a lot of money. And lots of money was a good thing.
“So bodyguard, who do you think this swordsman is?” Tanaka asked conspiratorially, leaning forward.
Hattori took another sip of his sake and shrugged “He didn’t say.”
“Is he from the mainland?” the boss asked with a note of fear in his voice.
“I wouldn’t say so, he dresses so strangely that I would of said that he came from here.”
Boss Tanaka stroked his chin “I’ve never heard of such a powerful swordsman in these parts.” He paused to pour Hattori more sake, then continued “If I had, I’d have hired him.” Hattori did not raise his eyebrows in reply.
I doubt that this Lodge would work for one such as you, Boss Tanaka. Hattori thought to himself as he drank.
It was a reminder of course, of that fateful time. And maybe it still did have power. After all, wasn’t Iyeasu hundreds years old?
“Whatever power you had,” Iyeasu said to the stone “It is gone now. Otokusai failed, and there shall be no change in this world.” He put the magatama into a silk lined box and closed the lid. “There will always be death.”
Iyeasu turned from the box and walked away from it. Things were changing he told himself. Soon he would be part of a great uprising against the government. With the wealth and power he had amassed here, he was indispensable to Gori’s plan.
Of course, the return of Shogun Lodge was somewhat unfortunate. He’d saved Japan before, and would probably do it again, if Iyeasu didn’t kill him first. And he did intend to kill him first, he could do it now.
First Shogun Lodge. Then the people of the Ryuu Kyuus. Then the whole of Japan.
