Heart of the Ronin Read Online Free Page B

terror-stricken eyes. Ken’ishi shuddered. He knew the memory of the duel would be burned into his mind until the moment he died, and perhaps carry into his next life. His anger at Takenaga’s insults was gone, drawn away with the departure of the man’s life. But he thanked the kami for his own life.
    Takenaga’s coin purse in his hand stirred the cauldron of emotions in his belly. He cocked his arm back to throw the purse into the forest, then stopped. Guilt churned. In his weakness, he had stooped to thievery, and that made him a criminal.
    But now with this money he could buy food for himself and Akao, for a little while, and in that time, perhaps he could find someone willing to employ him. Perhaps he could find a way to atone for his misdeed, but to do that, he had to live. Starving to death would serve no one. Samurai could also kill themselves to cleanse the stain of dishonor from their souls, but. . . If another constable captured him, he would be tortured and executed. Would an honorable warrior steal from a dead man? Samurai aspired to be the epitome of strength and honor, but sometimes they were simply evil men who enjoyed bloodletting for its own sake. Like the incident in the capital a few weeks before, where he had seen both the best and the worst of what a samurai could be.
    Standing on the road, with Akao watching him expectantly, he hefted Takenaga’s coin purse. He guessed it contained enough money to feed him for a long time. It was easy to see why some ronin stooped to banditry to fill their bellies. Should he give the money to someone he might meet on the road, perhaps a priest or a peasant? But then the thought of eating grubs and roots again tightened his grip on the heavy silken pouch. He looked at it until Akao nudged his leg.
    “Go now. Whine later,” Akao said.
    Ken’ishi sighed, then put the purse inside his shirt and resumed his way down the path. Was this the weakness his sensei had told him all men possess? The darkness, the demons inside their spirits that make them greedy and cruel. Was this the weakness that his teacher had taught him how to conquer? Had he failed so quickly? Was this kind of evil the reason for his family’s destruction?
    As he walked, Ken’ishi heard the sound of a stream gurgling over rocks. Perhaps what he needed now was to sit beside it for a while. As a boy, when his teacher had been harsh with him, he had often sat beside the stream that passed the foot of the mountain where he had been raised. The burbling sound had always calmed him, washing away whatever terrible feelings filled him. So many bad feelings could be carried away by the smooth, serene sound of water sliding over the rocks.
    He found the stream and climbed down the rocky bank to sit beside it. This was a pleasant spot. He noticed that Akao was gone, but he did not worry. The dog was stealthy when he chose to be, and had doubtless gone off in search of a meal. Bright green moss covered the moist rocks, and the abundance of bushes and bamboo along the banks gave him a feeling of seclusion. The stream was no more than ten paces across, and the water was clear. He knelt to thrust his face into the cool, gentle torrent, sucking down a great draught. Wiping his face, he stood up. The smell of the moist earth, the gentle gurgle of the water, the whisper of the breeze through the bamboo leaves, the song of a bird singing to its mate, all worked together to dispel some of the shame he felt. The place where he sat was invisible from the road. He would be safe here for a while. When he was calm, his hunger would return. Languid fish slid through the stream, and his stomach rumbled at the sight. The day was far from over, but he no longer felt like traveling.
    Soon, however, the sounds of a group of people preceded them coming up the road. His relaxation evaporated in an instant. The sound came from the direction of the village; the angry mob searching for him. He crept up the bank of the stream toward the