eyes bright with an almost mad joy.
‘So,’ he hissed, ‘it’s you again. I missed last time because it was dark. This time, you’re out of luck, you bastard.’ He raised a bloody knife and laughed.
Tora had dropped his own knife in the fall. The skinny youth had his foot on it.
In close encounters, knives can deliver nasty wounds even when you manage to avoid a fatal blow. Tora scooted away and scrambled up. The youth laughed again. He snatched up Tora’s knife.
One for each hand.
Tora risked another glance around for his pole or anything else he might use to defend himself. There was nothing close enough, and nobody was paying attention to them. It was just him and the skinny bastard.
An uneven battle.
But Tora was still fired up with rage at finding Jirokichi dead and, worse, bearing marks of torture. He did not want this animal to live. Pulling off a boot, he flung it at the youth, who raised his right arm to knock it aside. Tora used the moment of distraction to jump, bending low and aiming his head at the other man’s middle. He meant to knock him back and fling himself down on top to disarm and kill him.
It didn’t work.
The other, being younger and lighter on his feet, danced away and then came at him, both blades slashing.
Tora recovered from the charge and backed away, hopping this way and that to avoid the knives. The youth followed, teeth bared, eyes shining in the dim light that came from the splintered doorway. Tora tried to reach his pole, but almost fell over Jirokichi’s body again, and realized that he was being driven into the corner of the building.
The youth with the flashing knives knew it too and, sure of his prey, got impatient and careless. He threw the knife in his right hand. This surprised Tora, who reacted too slowly. While the knife missed his chest, it went deep into his upper left arm. The pain was immediate and so sharp that he gasped. He felt the warm blood running down inside his sleeve. His arm and hand were limp and useless.
He thought briefly of pulling the knife from the wound and using it, but was afraid he might lose more blood and become completely helpless. There was no more time for maneuvers. He had to act quickly.
His opponent moved in for the kill, but had to shift the other knife from the left hand to the right, and Tora made a last desperate move. He closed his eyes, doubled up, and rushed forward like a maddened bull. This time, his head did connect with the body, there was a squawk and a satisfying hiss of air being expelled, then they were falling in a tangle of limbs, Tora on top.
If this trick had worked earlier, Tora would have had the use of his left arm to meet his enemy’s right. But now his left arm had a knife in it and refused to obey. He had knocked the breath out of the youth, and his weight pinned him down, but the bastard still had a knife in his right hand.
Tora twisted to reach across and block the blow he knew was coming, but his left arm could not support his weight. He collapsed, expecting to feel the knife thrust deeply into his side or back. It would most likely be fatal. He was making an effort to roll away when suddenly a large, dirty foot slammed down and pinned the youth’s hand and knife to the ground. There was a howl of pain.
Hands lifted Tora to his feet, where he stood swaying, feeling more blood pouring down his arm and hand. The ground felt unsteady. He realized vaguely that the foot belonged to Koichi, the girl’s father, but Koichi’s figure seemed to become hazy and melt before his eyes. Tora mumbled, ‘Don’t – ‘ then felt suddenly very tired, so tired that he decided to sit down for a moment.
He woke to a strange fog. In it, he lay stretched out next to Jirokichi’s corpse. He thought it odd that this should be so, but also diverting. He was curious to find out what would happen next. Then reason returned with a sharp pain in his arm. He sat up, groaning with the effort.
The girl came to kneel beside him, holding out a cup. He groaned again, but drank thirstily. It was wine, strong wine, and he almost lay back down again, but the wine settled into his stomach with a sharp and pleasant heat, and his head and sight cleared a little. He was still in the warehouse. The girl looked at him anxiously. He turned his head. The three deaf mutes sat just beyond Jirokichi’s corpse, staring at him. Their clothes looked strange. One man lacked sleeves on his thick, muscular arms, and another wore only a short jacket over his loincloth.
Memory returned piecemeal: Jirokichi was dead. No, best not to look at him. The knife fight. He checked his left arm and saw that a thick bandage of checked fabric was wrapped around it. The knife was gone, and the bleeding seemed to have stopped. The fabric was familiar.
He cast a furtive glance at the girl’s skirt. ‘Thanks,’ he said, with a nod to the bandage. A very shapely pair of knees and thighs were revealed by the drastic shortening of her dress. He grinned. ‘I guess I owe you a new gown.’
She blushed a little and offered the cup again. Tora shook his head, then looked around. A few yards away, he saw another body. It looked like the bastard who had knifed him. He pointed. ‘Who took care of him?’
‘Dad.’
‘Damnation! I needed to ask him about those fires. Where are the others?’
‘They ran.’ She frowned at him. ‘Maybe Dad should’ve let Takeo kill you?’
‘Sorry. You have a point.’ Tora put the palms of his hands together and bowed his thanks to Koichi. ‘Please tell your father that I owe him my life. I have a wife and a baby son. It will be good to see them again.’
Koichi’s face remained passive, but he nodded.
Tora should have been thankful, but he felt mostly glum. Nothing good had come from their effort. They had been too late to save Jirokichi, and now he would have to go tell Hoshina, and then explain his knife wound to Hanae. He sighed and thought of getting to his feet. He was amazingly light-headed, and the arm throbbed unpleasantly. That was when he heard a strange sound from the corpse beside him. His hair bristled and he froze. Taking a deep breath, he decided to risk a quick look.
Jirokichi’s eyes were slightly open and looked at him. Tora scooted away with a gasp. The sound came again, something between a groan and a grunt, and then the corpse moved its lips.
Jirokichi seemed less bloody than he remembered from his first glimpse of him hanging from one of the rafters. Someone had cleaned him up. He shot a glance at the deaf mutes and the girl and saw that the girl smiled. What was there to smile about?
Half afraid, he looked at Jirokichi again. The Rat had closed his eyes, and his head had rolled a little more towards him. And – yes, there was a sort of rasping breath coming from his bruised mouth. Disbelieving his eyes and ears, Tora turned to the others. ‘He’s alive?’
They nodded. Koichi gestured to his daughter.
‘He’s in pretty bad shape,’ she said, ‘but he’s alive. They hurt his jaw and his belly. And they threw knives at his legs.’
Tora inspected the Rat more closely. Parts of the three men’s clothing were wrapped around both of Jirokichi’s blood-soaked thighs, and his jaw was swollen on one side. The eye socket on that side was also red and starting to swell, closing that eye. The ear closest to Tora was filled with drying blood, and more blood caked his gray-streaked hair.
Tora cursed softly. He looked at Koichi and said, ‘The lousy bastards tortured him. Why’d you let them get away?’
Koichi spread his hands and shook his head.
The girl said, ‘They’ve been bad, but they’re our people. We came to help Jirokichi.’
‘At least you got that bastard Takeo. He was the worst.’
She exchanged a glance with her father and gestured. He shook his head. Tora staggered to his feet and limped over, picking up his boot on the way. The skinny youth had been the leader of the gang. He had had his head split open by Koichi’s pole or cudgel and was unconscious, but he was breathing.
They had not bothered to tie him up.
Puzzled, he returned to the group. ‘You should’ve killed him for what he did to Jirokichi, but at least I can turn him over to the police. They’ll have their own methods for making the scum talk.’
The girl looked at the others and translated. Koichi and his companions regarded Tora the way a man might look at a poisonous snake in his house. Tora realized that there had been a distinct cooling of their relationship for a while now.
