“It hurts… Please… someone open the window… Help me…”
The cries had continued since sundown. Three hours had already passed. In that time, Akane had suffered and sobbed and begged for someone to open the window.
It had pained them at first to see her suffer, but that feeling gave way to suspicion when she continued to wail endlessly.
Finally they understood why Chizuru had insisted with such hard looks that they not open the windows. She had commanded them not to open the windows or doors until morning, no matter how much Akane suffered.
“What a stench!” said Norizuki, one of the Shitennô, pinching his nose as he stood outside Akane’s door. The unmistakable smell of garlic assaulted him. “You can still smell it from out here. It must smell like a Chinese restaurant kitchen inside.”
“Akane-san has been crying for three hours in there. This is a cruel thing to do, no matter what anyone says,” said Nobi, one of the Shitennô who had feelings for Akane.
“It can’t be helped. These were the doctor’s orders. But I agree; she has been crying for a long time.”
The two exchanged a look.
When they had heard that Akane had been taken ill from the shock of seeing a burglar in the yard, they had gladly agreed to stand guard for the night. Nevertheless, they could hardly bear the smell of the garlic, which they had been told came from the medicine.
Needless to say, neither they nor the other two in the yard—Daidôji and Otsuka—knew that Kanô Jigorô had rubbed garlic juice around the window and on the windowsill when he had visited in the late afternoon. Nor did they know that Akane’s hands and legs were bound so that she could not break the window.
“This stench is getting to me. It’s more like a magic spell than a medical treatment.”
Perhaps tired of hearing Norizuki complain, Nobi changed the subject.
“Too bad about Minazuki having tuberculosis.”
Norizuki nodded sadly. “Yeah. If he was chosen to succeed sensei at Renbei-jyuku, I would have congratulated him with open arms. But I guess there’s no chance of that now.”
“Even if he was, he would never accept it.”
“Why not?”
“He’s not the type to manage a dojo. He only has a mind to improve his skill. He would even leave Chizuru-san and Renbei-jyuku if they got in the way—like a true swordsman. He was born in the wrong era.”
“Hey, what about me?”
“Could you give up everything for the sword?”
“No.”
Norizuki slumped his shoulders. Nobi’s expression became mournful.
“To have tuberculosis so young… What a fate!”
“Hey, don’t be such a doomsayer.”
“When we were kids, we witnessed the end of the shogunate. I guess the god of destruction is out to get every one of the true samurai.”
“What did I tell you about—” Norizuki complained, but Nobi ignored him.
“Didn’t you notice?”
“Notice what?”
“That European noble who came to the dojo two days ago… the one who called himself Count Dracula.”
“Yeah. It was his bastard of a servant who defeated us. He will pay dearly for that the next time he comes.”
Without any regard to Norizuki, who bared his teeth in a show of hostility, Nobi went on, “He was… kind of similar.”
“To who?” Norizuki lashed out.
But before Nobi could answer, they heard a voice from the other side of the one glass door whose shutters they had decided to leave open.
“Who’s there?”
Otsuka’s low, penetrating voice rang out.
Thinking that an enemy threat could come only from outside, the two men opened the glass door and ran out into the yard with their hands on their swords.
Otsuka and Daidôji were already poised with their swords drawn.
A black shadow stood before them at the edge of the pond.
He wore a squarish hat, a muffler, and a cloak. Two crimson pools glistened inside the black face covered in darkness. They were eyes.
“He’s here.”
Akane’s voice came from the window.
“You came for me, my love… my master. Look, look, sister! You can have Daigo-sama. This man is my true love.”
So focused were they on the mysterious man in front of them, the four men could only hear parts of what she had said.
“Who are you?” Daidôji asked. “If you are a burglar, we are busy with other matters. Leave now, and we will let you go. But if you are after someone in this house…”
The shadow took a bold step forward.
“Why don’t you speak?”
“No matter. We will cut you down!”
The swords of the four men gleamed in the moonlight.
The shadow’s relentless advance froze the Shitennô. As if to break the tension, Otsuka, fourth dan, swung his sword.
“Iyyeehh!”
It was a technique called reppu,[2] a swing of the blade so fast even the sword’s shadow could not keep up.
The blade was deflected, hitting something and making a pure sound. It had hit a walking stick the man had concealed in his cloak. But the man was so powerful that he had deflected the blade, which had come at him with the full weight of the swordsman behind it, and sent the warrior back along with his sword.
The others watched Otsuka stagger back and drop his sword on the ground. Then they remembered the secret weapon Chizuru had given them.
But their pride as swordsmen smoldered.
“Come on!”
“Yeah!”
Without a sound, the four men scattered and surrounded the man, who stood perfectly still.
“Don’t worry. We won’t gang up on you,” said Norizuki. “We’ll take you on one at a time. My turn first.”
A deep laugh welled up from inside the man.
“What’s so funny?”
“Die!”