A Samurai Story

Bold, brilliant colors flashed before the eyes of the eager village folk as one by one the elaborate Kabuki actors flowed onto the stage, drums beating to a wild tune in the background while flutes chirped and whistled about like birds on a whim.

Lions, portrayed by painted men, roared and gnashed, dancing to the beat of the drum. The actors’ motions were all in unison to the drum and flute beats, flowing with them like a wave upon the sand.

Yuika and Yamahiko watched with wonder the marvelous specter as they danced over the makeshift stage, which was all the samurai could offer. It was high off the ground, and a set of narrow stairs led up to it. But it proved to be efficient for the actors’ needs, for they performed wonderfully.

When the lions roared, Yuika started and leapt back, and her brother, Yamahiko, allowed his eyes to grow large to show that he had surprise of some sort.

Hiroshi sat close behind them, beside their mother as she rested her head upon his shoulder. She was old, and so she was weary. Her eyes closed even as the Kabuki princess screamed and was taken away by the feirceome dragon king.

Hiroshi smiled at the delight his two younger siblings took in the show. It was not so wonderful to him, but he knew that to them there was nothing better.

Yuika looked over her shoulder at him as a lion leaped down from the stage and came towards her. She smiled broadly and squealed in delight as it began to softly tickle her. Yamahiko laughed and told her to run or the lion would eat her, but she could not. Overcome with laughter, she remained where she was, writhing and squealing in laughter.

“Hiroshi! Hiroshi!” She squealed, and Hiroshi met her gaze with a nod of his head as he smiled and folded his arms in front of him.

“Hiroshi, make him stop tickling me!” Yuika gasped, Yamahiko was beating on the lion’s back playfully as the audience around them roared with laughter.

The chief, who was the cause of the very performance, smiled and laughed. He rose to his feet, acting as well as the actors themselves as he made to remove the lion from the little girl. The audience was amused, and clapped as the samurai master pretended to beat away the beast.

The Kabuki actor fell to his knees with a great sigh and a moan, with the samurai standing atop it, his fist raised high in the air as if to announce victory.

Little Yuika laughed and clapped, running up to the samurai chief and embracing his knees with the whole of her arms’ span.

The old samurai smiled faintly and patted her on her little black head before shuffling her along. He was an old man, and he was as kind of a person as he was a skilled and mighty warrior. He favored Hiroshi and his family, for they were tightly bound together and lived most honorably out of all of the samurai, even their ancestors had lived so well.

Little Yuikaran to Yamahiko’s side and sat near to him as the old samurai lord went to where Hiroshi sat, watching the production with half-closed eyes.

“Not exciting enough for you, eh?” The man said with a grin, but Hiroshi shook his head.

The old man lowered himself with a grunt and Hiroshi reached up to aid him in sitting, for his bones were stiff, but the master shook his head briskly and shooed the young man’s hand away.

Sitting, the old samurai sighed with contentment and laid his blade across his lap in a formal fashion as the man who had portrayed the fierce lion crept up to the stage, for he had been lying as if dead upon the ground until this moment.

“My bones are tired.” The samurai said as he looked to Hiroshi. The young man could say nothing, for he was not old and did not know anything of the pains age brings alongside it.

“My bones are tired and my vision fails me with each passing day. I am strong in mind now, but no longer so mighty in body as I once was. I fear, Hiroshi.”

Hiroshi raised his brow, startled that the old master would so willingly confide in him his feelings. “Forgive me, master, for my silence.” Hiroshi said, “I cannot imagine the pains that must come with age.”

“Ah, but, whatever the pains, age is a gift...” The master said, “... though a rather bothersome one at times.” and here he chuckled and was silent for a moment as a group of lovely dancers cascaded onto stage, twirling colorful banners about and about in the air until it seemed that a very rainbow of dew had formed over the stage and the audience.

“What is it that you... fear?” Hiroshi suddenly asked, boldly. The old samurai chuckled and tilted his head.

“These are far more dangerous times now, Hiroshi-chan. Now, honor is not so closely kept, even with the samurai. Even though our own clan holds honor and valour dear to them, mant others do not and the warriors can be swayed by greed or lust do anything that another, more foul, leader wishes.

“Warriors have left their clans to fight for mere briggians, simply because they are receiving great pay in return. They are ruthless and will do what ever it is they are told if only to ensure that the jingle of money remains singing in their purses.” He sighed heavily.

“I cannot ensure that our clan will remain safe if I am to old to protect it.” The old samurai bowed his head as if he were weary and folded his arms before his breast.

“The samurai of this village will always protect this village...” Hiroshi began slowly, “...even if you, our master, were to weak to continue your own self. We would not let the people here come to harm.”

“But the samurai cannot continue without a master, and who would I leave to such a job? Not you, young Hiroshi, not you, for you are far to young. I fear that I have not enough time left in my weak old bones to elect a leader for our people before tragedy strikes. I do not know what it is that I feel, but I feel that there is some danger growing nigh even as we sit.”

Hiroshi raised his brow, thinking that such a thing could not be possible on such a lovely, clear night, but as his eyes journeyed across the audience, he saw that some of the other men were uneasy, looking about them as if they expected something.

Hiroshi looked to his master with question, and the old man replied: “I told you.”

Hiroshi raised to his feet, and helped the old samurai to stand as he looked uneasily about at the other warriors. The women and children seemed to sense nothing, but the samurai all readied their blades in their sheaths, some rising to their feet.

“Do you know what comes, master?” Hiroshi asked, but the old man only shook his head.

“I only know that something comes...”

The Kabuki actors stopped their play. The audience was puzzled and some raised their fists in protest, but the actors did not move, but only began to look about them, tilting their heads.

Little Yuika and Yamahiko went to where Hiroshi stood, to ask him why the play had finished so suddenly, but they soon became frightened as they saw shining metal in the sheath, being slowly risen away from-its captivity. Their older sibling’s eyes were worried, as well as those of the kind old master and they stood as if upon pins and needles, looking about them warily at every noise that was made. The two little children saw that the warriors were afraid of something, and fear only increased in the little ones.

Mother, who sat so nearby, saw that something was amis and clumsily rose to her feet, sighing with tire as she went to her son’s side.

“What is it, Hiroshi?” She asked, and the children clung tighter to him.

Hiroshi shook his head, taking his mother slowly under his arm. Suddenly, something caught his eye and he turned to the Kabuki actors, who still stood still upon their stage. The feirceome looking lions slowly began to walk to the front of the stage, tilting their heads from side to side.

The audience had grown silent, but only for a mere moment, for during that moment of silence blades were drawn. “It is the Kabuki actors...!” Hiroshi gasped as the colorful beings leapt from their stage and ran among the audience, waving their blades high over their heads.

At first, the audience was not frightened, and they laughed, for they thought that the show had continued.

Then, a cry came from amid the throng of excited people and it was a cry of agony and pain. Laughter was turned to screams of fear and joy to horror as the ‘Dragon King’ raised high over his head a man’s head, gushing blood upon the earthen ground.

The audience was petrified and motionless, even as the awful head was thrown into the air and upon a tall, pointed spike.

“Kill! Kill brethren, kill all!” those cries echoed to where Hiroshi stood, holding his mother and siblings close. The old master had long since left his side and was now joining the samurai as they leapt into battle.

Women and children screamed as one by one legs became mobile and the weaker ones began to run for shelter, hiding anywhere that could prove as some defense at all.

Little yuika, startled and surprised, clung tightly to Hiroshi’s hakama as images of death played before her. A man fell before her very feet, crying out in pain as he writhed upon the earth.

Terrified, Hiroshi grabbed the little children up in his arms and led his mother by the hand as he fled from the battle scene. Yuika wept in terror and even Yamahiko seemed frightened as he wiped tears from his wide, wide eyes.

“I will take you to a safe--” Hiroshi began, but just then, from an overhanging high above them, a frightening warrior leapt down and ran towards them. His eyes glowed red with fire and his blade was soaked with blood.

Hiroshi tumbled to the ground just as the warrior reached where it was that he and his loved ones had stood, and he rolled past the stumbling warrior.

Quickly rising to his feet, he ran once more away, not knowing where to, but only to somewhere safe, where no one could find his family.

Mother began to limp, her weak old bones aching at their joints. She cried out in pain as she fell to the ground.

“Hiroshi!” She wept as her son whirled about, going to her side. A horrible pain shot through her ankle and up to her knee. Horrified, she looked to her son with wide eyes, wet with tears.

“Save me, Hiroshi...!” She cried, but even as Hiroshi began to pull her to her feet, a flood of people, being pursued by the Kabuki warriors, cascaded into the courtyard where Hiroshi and his family knelt.

Mother leaned upon his shoulders, and he held the two little ones in his one arm while pulling mother along with his other arm as he fought against the terrified crowd, trying to hide his family in a darkened, quiet room with wooden walls.

“Quickly!” Hiroshi said urgently as he ushered mother in through the doorway, keeping an eye open for any villans that might be near. He saw only ones who were turned away from him, but they were close... to close.

The young samurai darted into the room after his family, pushing them onto their bellies, to the floor, as one Kabuki warrior passed by an open window above them. He rapped on the sill of the window.

Hiroshi pulled his family closer to him as he lay against the wall of the room, beneath the window. Yuika gasped as the warrior invaded the room with his fierceome head, peering about through the darkness.

Hiroshi covered the young girl’s mouth with his large hand to quiet her as the warrior would not leave. Tears ran from her little eyes onto his hand, so frightened was she.

But, then, the warrior’s head left the window and they heard footsteps leaving. Hiroshi sighed in relief, but bid his family stay low while he rose to his knees, looking cautiously out the window.

He was overwhelmed. People ran aimlessly about.... some wounded, many falling dead to the ground as they walked. A horrible stench of rotting flesh hung in the air, mixed with the smell of fresh blood.

The young man’sjaw dropped slightly as he saw women slain, children stolen away or killed as well as their parents.

Why would such terror come to this peaceful little village? Why in the form of Kabuki actors, harmless, entertaining Kabuki actors? Why would one wish to kill so many.... to take so very many innocent lives?

Hiroshi was overcome with a deathly sickness deep within his stomach as he darted beneath the window sill. It had once been a lovely night, it had once been a lovely night. Now, as if the world had fallen apart, lives were being taken... children screamed out in fear and pain.

No matter how hard he tried, Hiroshi could not block the horrible sounds of death and chaos from entering his ears. He covered his ears with his hands and pressed them hard together, but it was to no avail. He could still hear the screaming.

Then, a light touch fell upon his shoulder, and he looked to see little Yuika laying her hand upon him. She smiled through her own tears that fell, as if to reassure him. Mother had crawled to the corner and held her face in her hands as she sobbed and wept as quietly as she was able. Yamahiko was curled up in her lap.

Collecting himself, Hiroshi took Yuika up in his arms and went to where mother sat, wrapping his arms about her. But his vision caught the sight of something foul as his eyes fell to his mother’s knee.

It was horribly swollen and blackened, and blood trickled from an open wound there upon it. Mother sighed and pulled her kimono over it as if to hide it.

Hiroshi’s eyes were wide and frightened for her and she did not like to see her son fear for her.... it should be she that feared for the life of her son.

“Hiroshi...” Mother whispered, laying her hands over yamahiko’s ears, for he was near enough to them speak, “...I cannot walk. This leg is of no use to me. But I am old... my son... old enough. The children are so very, very young and bright---”

“Mother...” Hiroshi said, stroking her cheek. But she shook her head as she pressed her cheek to his warm palm.

“Oh, but I love you, son...” She continued, “... far more than any woman would, and I am proud for you and for what feats in your life you have accomplished.” She gasped as a second shot of pain hurdled through her leg, traveling farther now to her hip. “Hiroshi... I cannot move from here. You cannot carry me for I am far to heavy and the children are young and have yet to fully live their lives---”

“Mother, no!” Hiroshi sighed with a reassuring smile, but mother said nothing, for her teeth clenched in pain and she could not speak.

“Carry the children. Leave me here!” She moaned in pain, grasping at her throbbing leg. Hiroshi felt tears fall from his eyes as he viewed his mother in such a state, her loving, kind eyes shut tight in pain.

She shoved Yamahiko into his weeping brother’s arms, and Hiroshi pulled Yuika near to him as well. Mother looked upon them all with tears in her eyes, not tears of pain, but tears of sadness that she should have to leave them.

Pounding, running footsteps sounded near to the room, and Hiroshi’s mother gasped in fear. “Go, go now!” She whispered urgently, “Go, and leave me! I will be dead before they find me!” and she shooed them away, wiping tears from her wide eyes.

With a heavy heart that was breaking within his chest, Hiroshi turned away from his mother and left her leaning against the walls for support.

When her children had left her, mother, with a deep sigh, fondled through the folds of her kimono until she found a small knife that she had always carried on her person. Many of the samurai wives or widows did the same, just to be safe.

She fingered the knife in her palm for a moment before raising it to her neck. It was a noble death do die without being taken by the enemy first, and though at this moment the ceremony was rather informal and rushed, Hiroshi’s mother felt it the best thing. She set the tip of the blade to her flesh and , with a heavy sigh, quickly thrust the blade into her neck.

Blood spurted forth as the old woman removed the blade and fell to the floor... dead. And when the approaching Kabuki warriors came to the door of the room and looked within, they saw only the body of some poor murdered fool.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Where’s mother?” Yuika asked with a timid,frail voice, and Hiroshi was forced to reply to her.

“Mother has left us for a while... but only for a while.” He said, “...we will see her once more after a while.”