Sensei doesn’t like you, but Kata Sensei was very impressed.”
“He can’t be too impressed after what happened,” said Tora. “Who brought me here?”
“Two of the students and me.”
“Thanks. What about the students?”
“They think you should stay.” Kinjiro grinned. “They figure they can learn to beat you. Matsue Sensei won’t waste his time on them.”
Tora snorted and touched his sore head. “I guess he’s done me an honor then. That makes me feel a lot better.”
“Matsue Sensei’s a bit fanatical about being the best. You want to wash? There’s a lot of blood on you.”
“Make myself presentable to express my thanks for the welcome, you mean? I don’t think I’ve got the strength yet to deal with all those students who’re planning to challenge me.”
Kinjiro laughed. “You’re funny. I like you.”
Tora reached across and tousled the boy’s hair. “I like you, too. Thanks for bringing the water and food.”
Kinjiro flushed. “It was nothing,” he said gruffly.
Tora eyed him thoughtfully. “Tell me about yourself while I try to stop my head from acting like it’s about to burst open like a ripe melon.”
“There’s nothing to tell. What you see is what I am.”
“Not much then. But in time, with some proper food, you may fill out.”
“Yeah. I’m not stupid. They feed me here.”
“And they didn’t at home?”
The boy spat. “Home!”
“No parents? No brothers and sisters?”
“I wish!” This was said with such venom that Tora raised his brows.
“Oh?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” The boy moved impatiently. “What about you?”
“Oh, my family’s nothing special. They were peasants. We had a small bit of land at the end of the eastern highway. They’re all dead now.”
“How come?”
Tora said nothing for a moment, then, “They starved.”
“Starved? Farmers? You’d think a farmer wouldn’t starve.”
“They do when they have a few bad harvests and the tax collector takes all their rice for taxes. You can get through the winter gnawing a few roots and leaves left in the fields, but if your seed rice is gone, there’ll be no harvest the next year. But the tax man comes anyway, and if you can’t pay, he takes what you have and makes everyone work off the debt on one of the lord’s pet projects. In my case, I got to be a soldier. When I got back from fighting, they were all dead.”
“Oh.” Kinjiro thought about it, then said, “I’ve never been out of the capital. My father was a scribe. We lived in a nice house a few wards north of here.”
“A scribe? That’s a pretty good job, isn’t it? Practically a learned man. How come you end up here?”
“He died.”
“But…?” Tora swallowed the rest of his question. The boy had turned his head and was plucking nervously at his shirt.
“I don’t care,” he said fiercely. “I can look after myself. I don’t need anybody. Someday I’ll show them all.”
“Is your mother dead, too?”
The boy kicked a heel viciously into the dirt. “No such luck! The bitch had better things to do. She got married again.”
Tora was appalled. After a moment, he said, “I guess her new husband didn’t want to adopt a whole family. What about brothers and sisters?”
“She kept my baby sister. And it wasn’t her new husband got rid of me. It was her. She tried to sell me to a post stable where they beat me every day. When I ran back home, she had to return the money. That made her mad and she said I had to get out. The filthy bitch.” His voice broke and he jumped up, kicked the door of the shack open, and disappeared.
The door clattered shut, and Tora stared at it. Poor kid. He had at least been a grown man when his parents died. Kinjiro’s mother was either heartless or without choice in the matter, and the boy was taking her rejection hard. No wonder he had joined a gang.
Tora rested a little more and was just making up his mind to walk home, when Kinjiro returned. “You’re in,” he cried. “Kata wants to talk to you about the job.” Before Tora could ask for details, he was gone again.
Tora got up and walked out of the shed. The bright sun blinded him, but most of the dizziness was gone. He found a well. Kneeling on the stone coping, he lowered the wooden bucket by its old rope and pulled up water. It took three more buckets before he had rid himself of most of the caked blood in his hair and on his skin. His skull seemed to be in one piece, though it hurt like the devil. He washed out his shirt in the last bucket and draped it over the fence behind the training school to dry. He would stay long enough to find out what the job entailed.
Wearing only his short pants and hoping that the old scars on his upper body would look more impressive than a ragged shirt, he walked into the training hall. Kata stood talking to some students and ignored him. Tora did not see Matsue and went to sit on the trunk. After a while, the boy showed up with a paper-wrapped bundle.
The thought of working for Kata was still tempting. Of course he would have to get his information quickly, before Kata decided to send him out on a burglary or hold-up. He had an uneasy feeling that he should have planned things better.
Thinking made Tora’s head hurt worse. He decided to go back to his shack and take a little nap, but as he was shuffling away, Kata called out, “Hey, you. Tora.”
Tora turned and said humbly, “Yes, Sensei?”
Kata dismissed the students, then said, “Come here.”
Tora obliged and submitted to a close inspection of his wound. Kata tsked and shook his head. “How do you feel?”
A little surprised by the solicitude, Tora managed a grin. “Like I’ve a beehive in my head and the bees are trying to get out.”
Kata chuckled. “Matsue shouldn’t have struck so hard, but it was an accident.”
Tora’s grin faded. “It was no accident.”
“These things happen,” said Kata vaguely. “Anyway, you can have a job helping me in the training hall. I’ve seen you handle a sword. How are you at kickfighting and wrestling?”
“Not so good, but I can beat anybody with a pole.”
“Really?” Kata waved to the boy. “Kinjiro, get two poles.”
Tora bit his lip. His head pounded like blazes every time he moved. But he accepted the bamboo pole and took up his position. It was a short bout. After a few turns, Kata stepped away. “Yes,” he said, “I can see you’re good. You can teach me a few things.” He tossed the pole to Kinjiro, went to pick up the paper-wrapped package, and thrust it at Tora. “Put these on. The boy’ll take you to a house where you can stay tonight.”
Tora was so astonished by all this that he made Kata a deep bow. The pain that shot through his head added a touch of unintended emotion to his expression of gratitude.
“Never mind,” said Kata. “You’ll be useful. Maybe later I’ll let you help with some other business. How do you feel about the police?”
Tora stepped back and glowered. “I won’t have anything to do with them.” His memory of Lieutenant Ihara made him embellish a bit. “Those crooked devils treat poor bastards like filth while the rich can do no wrong. Greedy merchants rob their customers, and then they turn around and rob their workers by sending us away without wages. And if we complain to a constable, he’ll lock us up and beat us half to death for making trouble.”
Kata nodded. “I know. Police brutality. I noticed the fresh stripes on your back. We feel like you do and protect each other. That means we don’t talk about our business to anyone outside the family. How do you feel about that?”
