Heart of the Ronin Read Online Free Page A

little statue of one the Seven Bodhisattvas. Had the small stone god spoken to him? He wondered what the shrine’s significance might be, why people sometimes built these small structures filled with gods and offerings in the most unusual or out-of-the-way places. There was a wooden placard inside with some writing on it, but he recognized only a few of the characters.
    Then he noticed a sparrow sitting on the roof of the shrine, watching him with its small black eyes. “Did you speak to us?” Ken’ishi asked. Perhaps the bird could help him. Sparrows were good fortune.
    “I did. You surprised me.”
    Ken’ishi bowed. “Good day, Mr. Sparrow. I am sorry to have startled you.”
    It smoothed its ruffled, pale breast feathers and said with some surprise, “Good day to you, big hairy man. How is it that you can speak my tongue?”
    “I learned from my teacher.”
    “I have never heard of a man who could understand birds. Or dogs, for that matter. Do you have any seeds? I am hungry.”
    It was so difficult to speak to such small birds. Their minds flitted back and forth as if thoughts were branches. “I am sorry,” Ken’ishi said. “I don’t have any seeds.”
    “Do you have any stiff grass? I am building a nest for my wife.”
    “Again, my apologies. I have none.” But perhaps he could offer the sparrow something, not only to atone for his earlier misdeed, but also because he could certainly use a bit of good fortune. His hair, tied into ponytail, symbolized his status and his nature as a warrior. “Perhaps I could offer you some of my hair.”
    “What an excellent idea! An auspicious gift! You are very helpful.”
    Ken’ishi drew his knife, sliced away a generous lock of hair from his ponytail, and laid it at the sparrow’s feet.
    The sparrow bowed and said, “Thank you, strange big hairy man. I am in your debt. For your kindness, I think I will repay you with a bit of good fortune.”
    “Thank you, good bird, but there is no need to repay me. You have helped me to avoid my own despair.”
    “Too late. The good fortune has already been granted. You will meet it very soon. I hope you use it wisely. Why were you running? Is something chasing you?”
    “No,” Ken’ishi said, “I run from myself.”
    “What a silly thing to say! If you run from yourself, you are caught before you raise a wing! Have you any seeds?”
    “No, kind bird. I’m sorry. What lies further down this road?”
    “My nest is here! What lies down there does not matter to me!”
    “Forgive me, I am being rude.”
    “If you have no seeds for me to eat, then be gone! You have wasted enough of my time, and I am hungry. I do not live as long as you!”
    “Thank you, Mr. Sparrow. I’ll move on.” The demeanor of small birds could shift so suddenly. They forgot kindnesses so quickly and remembered wrongs for so long. In that respect, they were much like people. Ken’ishi shrugged his belongings onto his back, then he paused. He pulled out Takenaga’s coin pouch and plucked out the largest, shiniest gold coin. Then he placed it at the feet of the small stone god and clapped his hands twice, as he had seen others do to get the attention of the spirit of the shrine, bowed, and asked the shrine god for forgiveness for his deed. He received no response. With a heavy sigh, he moved on.
    The smells of the forest, vibrant with life, helped to soothe the pain in his belly for a while, but as he walked, the constable’s silken coin purse bumped into him with each step, driving him deeper and deeper into despair. His ears burned with the cries of “Criminal! Criminal!”
    He did not feel like a criminal for killing the constable. That had been a duel of honor, and he had offered a chance to decide the duel without death. His teacher had prepared him for battle, but not for the reality—the finality—of it. In his mind, he saw Takenaga’s pale face again, haloed by the expanding pool of blood, gasping, meeting the dying man’s rage- and