Shogun Honey

08/05/11

Ishikari took the job for three rice balls a day and a dry place to sleep. By dark, he’d wished he drowned and starved. His blade caught the thin shaft of light by the door. The edge was notched from many blows.

Rain hammered the roof of the priest’s hut, beat a relentless tattoo. Droplets trickled down Ishi’s back. His head fell forward, exhausted, woken by the sting of water in his wound. He nodded like a crane hunting mudfish. Muddy river minnows were his last meal. Eaten on the priest’s last coin.

The girl huddled over the holy man’s body. Silent tears down her cheeks. She’d passed as a boy, his acolyte. Washwomen saw her squat to piss in the bushes. The ruse was over. Soon the oyabun, leader of the village yakuza, would know.

***

Ishikari walked into town lean and hungry. Gone to the temple to pray.

“She has not yet had her blood,” the old man said. “And he will whore her.”

“That is her road,” Ishi said. “Why protect her?”

The priest groaned, stroked his bald head. “She is last of the Mikatsuki clan.”

Ishikari grunted, thumbed the sword in his belt. His father’s. Last drawn on the red-soaked fields where the Shogun’s samurai slaughtered Lord Mikatsuki and his fiefdom. Ishi’s father wouldn’t roam as a ronin. He died with honor. Ishikari separated his head from his body with his own sword.

Ishi thought of the head’s stare. The way the lips parted, as if to impart some final wisdom.

“For a beggar’s meal and a roof,” Ishi laughed. He was weak; his sword was sharp. “Old man, I need more than rice to fight the oyabun’s men.”

The priest narrowed his eyes. “And I need proof that sword wasn’t stolen from the dead.”

Ishi flicked out the knife nestled alongside his sword from its scabbard, spun it at the door beam. It sank deep, pinning a lazy brown cockroach to the wood.

The priest grunted, and handed him a dirty iron coin.

***

“There is a stray bitch outside the boss’s kennel,” the dirty man chuckled to his comrades.

Ishi devoured his pot of simmered mudfish. Their silvery eyes gave him bowl of stars in the paper lamp’s light.

“We get her tonight from his hut,” another said. They were bearded and lean, like Ishi. Ronin fallen into the oyabun’s claws.

Ishikari finished his bowl. Slurped down the broth. Then drew his father’s blade and killed the three men in as many strokes.

The restaurant erupted in screams. Men shouted, flowed from the gambling house to nick his blade. Ronin with swords. Thieves with knives, chains. A woman dropped a noose from a window. He yanked her out by it. Her body crumpled in the mud like a dying bug. Ishi fought his way to the temple, limbs and writhing bodies in his wake.

Too many. A spear tore open his back. He ran his blade up the haft, severing the wielder’s fingers at the knuckles. Staggered back to the hut. Found a man giggling over the priest’s halved head, beckoning to the girl with a finger. Axe in the other hand.

Ishikari severed the hand, then spilled the man’s guts to the floor.

***

They waited.

The oyabun owned many men. Could lure dozens more, with the song of rattled silver. The crescent moon shone through the slats of the leaky hut.

“So,” Ishi said. “You are Sakura? My lord’s only daughter.”

She wept, tugging the priest’s robe over his ruined face. Failing.

“Tell me,” Ishi grunted. “Who do I die for today?”

She bit her lip in defiance. Eyes dead as those in Ishi’s dinner bowl.

“Tell me!”

“My name is Reiko,” she said. “I am the oyabun’s daughter.”

“Lies! From a priest,” Ishi spat.

“He lied twice,” she said. “I have had my blood. And my father’s child is in my belly.”

Ishi grunted.

Footsteps in the rain. Many. Hushed whispers. Ishi groaned out a sigh, nodded to the girl. And stepped out the doorway, sword held high.

~ fin ~

tommy-boxer

Thomas Pluck writes unflinching fiction with heart. His debut novel Blade of Dishonor stars MMA fighter ‘Rage Cage’ Reeves rescuing his WWII vet grandpa from a battle between ninja and samurai over a stolen sword.  His work has appeared in The Utne Reader, Needle: A Magazine of Noir, Burnt Bridge, PANK Magazine, McSweeney’s, The Morning News, Beat to a Pulp, and numerous anthologies. He writes regular columns for Devil Gourmet, The Big Thrill, Criminal Element, and The Good Men Project. He is also the editor of Protectors: Stories to Benefit PROTECT. You can find him on the web at www.thomaspluck.com and Twitter as @tommysalami

Enjoyed the Story! Like all things Samuria.
Gianna Giavonie
August 17, 2011
Nice work, Thomas. I was a big fan of The Water Margin as a kid and this piece took me back there for a while. Thanks!
David Barber
August 16, 2011
a different kind of dao. this really goes to show your versatility and it has echoes of ancient passages. i was hooked at the rice balls. when i was a kid i saw an old movie of an axe man. to finish the movie, this old guy threw his weapon at the dragon's eye on the bar wall. it went straight through and right into the skull of the bad guy who was leaning on the wall in the back room. any ideas what that was, anyone? great story.
nigel p bird
August 07, 2011
Damn that's fine writing and what a cool setting.
Chris Rhatigan
August 07, 2011
Thanks everyone. I love the samurai genre and don't see much fiction set there, and it's right in the realm of grit, crime, noir, and the underworld we love. I'd highly recommend the 28 volumes of Lone Wolf and Cub manga... or the seven "Baby Cart" films beginning with Sword of Vengeance, aka "Shogun Assassin" if you don't agree.
Thomas Pluck
August 07, 2011
Finally, someone takes a stab at the samurai genre--and connects! This was beautiful, Tommy. Lean and lyrical.
garkim
August 07, 2011
Reading this makes me want to write better, and also to write about samurais. And reading your bio makes me want to go after a squirrel. Great story.
Ryan Sayles
August 06, 2011
Nicely done!
Glenn Gray
August 06, 2011
A nice alternative to Mulan.... Love it Tommy...guts and all!
McDroll - Fiona Johnson
August 05, 2011
The 1st paragraph grabs you and the whole thing never lets go -- classic tale in only the way you can tell it. Nicely done.
C Rohrbacher
August 05, 2011
One of my favorites, Thomas. The opening is makes me smile, if only 'cause I remember the night is was written. I'm glad you took the time to write this. Love it!
Sabrinaogden
August 05, 2011
Every bit of the right stuff presented in the best, most economical way. Classical Zen. Could hear the drums. I think they'll make it. Cool.
AJ Hayes
August 05, 2011
Love this. Nice change of pace. And I'm always on board for Samurai stories.
Chris La Tray
August 05, 2011
Simply breathtaking. Sublime.
Daz Sant
August 05, 2011
Medieval Japan in 700 words. Way to evoke it.
August 05, 2011

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