The Disfavored Hero (35 page)

It was natural that she would be glad to have won, and she
was
in many senses pleased, but not for the sake of her present life, and not for the pride in her prowess. She was glad because it benefited the Mikado and Toshima. She was glad because she had adhered to the way of the warrior, and it had vindicated her charges of treachery.

But having slain a hero—in that, she held no pleasure.

Ugo leaned further back until he lay upon his shoulders, his legs still under him. His blood crimsoned the yard.

The audience had ceased to exist for either of these great warriors, who gave each other final words. Ugo was already blinded by the loss of vitality, but his unseeing eyes held no trace of agony. He could barely speak, so Tomoe Gozen bent close to hear him say, “Now, you are a favored hero.”

“As you will remain,” she promised. “I will weave the kodan tales myself, without Toshima's charges.”

“You are kind; but leave nothing from the tale. So that you will know it all, and tell it completely, I must say to you quickly: this is the fate of my choosing. In all of Naipon, only you were my match. I knew it on the day I bid you cast off forbidden style, and train for our final meeting. I had to know which of us was better. That is why I left the Mikado. To test myself against your sword, which would never have been possible while both of us served the same master. I am not sorry I tried, for in the end, I have still served the Mikado, and myself as well.”

She looked at him, surprised, but believing. Ugo's arm relaxed on the ground, and Tomoe knew in a moment the legended man would be dead, and the legend would grow larger.

She said to him, “Good-bye, Ugo Mohri, noble samurai.”

He closed his eyes. His last words were hardly so loud as one breath, “Fare you well, Tomoe Gozen.”

And he opened his eyes once more, agony rising from the depths of him. Tomoe could not bear that he should die without the serenity she had once sought to conquer. Instantly, she was upon her feet. Her sword was drawn. She thrust the weapon between the ribs of Ugo Mohri, and into his heart. With that swift plunge, she had preserved his serenity, and Ugo Mohri was as beautiful in death as he had been in life.

Tomoe Gozen was victorious.

Turn the page to continue reading from the Tomoe Gozen Saga

The Vengeance Swords of Okio

Azo Hono-o awaited Tomoe Gozen where two rivers forged themselves into one, north of Daki village in the province of Heida. Azo wore a pair of baggy trousers or split skirt called
hakama,
printed brown on black, over a short kimono of blue slik. Her family seal—a gingko leaf—was printed on the back of the kimono and in the front at each shoulder. Through her sash or
obi
she bore two swords: long and short. Around her head was tied a towel, symbol of her readiness to meet with Tomoe.

She watched the two rivers blend, as she and her sword would blend to become a mighty machine by which another samurai might fall. One of the rivers was smaller than the other. It was overwhelmed by the turbulence of the larger one. The froth and noise of the clashing rivers vanished into serene greatness further on, beyond the destruction of the smaller.

There had been too many occasions when Azo heard it said that among the women warriors of Naipon, only Tomoe Gozen could defeat Azo Hono-o. Azo disagreed; no samurai, be he man or be she woman, was match for Azo's blade. She believed this devoutly. She would demonstrate the truth of her belief. It was a matter of pride.

Tomoe was more famous, it was true; she had slain the Shogun's champion Ugo Mohri and won reestablishment of the Shigeno clan. The clan's only heir was a woman named Toshima-no-Shigeno. It was rare that a clan survived the lack of male heirs. The fact that a woman samurai championed a woman Lord was naturally a fascinating incident. To Azo, none of this meant that Tomoe was special. It grated that Tomoe should become so famous because of unusual circumstances. Defeating her would bring Azo deserved recognition, and bring honor to her family and her sword instructor.

The violence of the two rivers provided a monotonous roar which soothed Azo's anger over having to wait. Tomoe Gozen had not arrived within the time allocated! It would do Azo no good to succumb to rage. When the duel commenced, she must apply herself with calm precision and not be daunted by the cheap maneuver of disrespectful tardiness.

More time passed. Despite her resolve, Azo began to seethe. It was inconceivable that an honorable warrior should accept a challenge and then keep the challenger waiting so long! A good fighter would never stoop to it. Therefore, Tomoe Gozen was not a good fighter. Deciding this, Azo let herself experience the rage after all. She let it sweep over her, and what matter if it weakened her, when her nemesis was famous without warrant!

Enmity peaked. It washed away like silt to a distant delta. If anger was meant to weaken Azo, Tomoe had waited too long to reap the advantage. After a while, the only thing the waiting woman felt was contempt.

Shining Amaterasu passed Her zenith and began the long descent toward twilight. Azo paced along the upper banks of the rivers. She began to suspect Tomoe would not come at all. This was even more inconceivable than tardiness, that Tomoe was a coward.

Azo reeled about, thumb pushing her sword a little ways loose of the scabbard.

There was a thrashing among the bushes along the smaller of the two rivers. Azo caught a glimpse of a varnished straw hat. Tomoe Gozen burst from cover and scrambled up a steep bank. She wore a long kimono, tied up between her legs to allow for running and wading. She was soiled and wet, scratched and sweaty. Her sword was drawn.

Azo drew her sword, though puzzled by the dirty specter who earlier that day had been a regal warrior, wholesome and beautifully dangerous. As Tomoe topped the hillside, she stopped, fell to her knees, and said, “Please accept my apology. Trouble kept me from your commission.”

Along the river from the direction of Daki village there came the sound of splashing feet and shouting samurai.

“You were detained?” asked Azo, trying to see who was coming in a loud hurry.

Tomoe bowed to Azo, humbled and ashamed to be so late. “My father decided my marriage! I was not informed until shortly after your challenge that I was to meet the man today. I refused, saying that my duty was to the Lady of Shigeno Valley, to whom I am a vassal. My father knew of my commitment and previously honored it … but … intrigues! Even the Shogun's concubines become rambunctious knowing that one woman killed his Champion and another woman is overlord in a distant valley. My master, Toshima-no-Shigeno, is politically powerful and cannot be compelled to marry. But I am vulnerable through my father. The Shogun's agents hinted that a dutiful daughter should be married. He bowed to the pressure and said I must accept betrothal and not be so famous as a bachelor. When I refused, my father grew wroth. He said no woman can place her career first, that all women bow in youth to the father, in prime to the husband, and in old age to the son. I disagreed further, saying a samurai's duty is first to a master and to family second. It made him furious that I spoke so boldly. He turned his retainers on me; I killed many of them. Then I realized I was late in coming to you. I came as fast as I could run, but have been followed. My father's men have orders to bring me back to meet with my fiancé, or, if that is not possible, to kill me for my disobedience.”

“A harsh father!” said Azo.

“A difficult daughter,” Tomoe confessed. “He and I both are at an impasse. He too must act according to a master; family ties are indeed secondary.”

Azo Hono-o barely had time to consider Tomoe's situation when six men burst out of the brush. They stopped at the foot of the hill and spotted Tomoe at the top. Tomoe leapt to her feet and sprinted alongside Azo to a stand of trees.

“Before we can have our match,” said Azo, “it seems we must first kill them. I will wear your hat. It will confuse them.”

Tomoe exchanged her varnished hat for Azo's towel. The six men saw the two women separate in opposite directions. Three of them followed after Azo and three after Tomoe. Azo led her three through a ravine, turned quickly to slay the foremost pursuer with a surprise sweep of her sword. The trick could only work once. She jumped up from the ravine and took a stand by a tree, so the two men could not get her between them. They immediately saw their mistake. “Not Tomoe!” one of them said. The other said, “Good. We needn't hesitate to avenge our friend murdered in the ravine.”

They charged together. Azo caught both their swords on her one. When they fell back for another run, she did not wait against the tree as would be expected. She became the aggressor, following them several paces. A quick downward slice cut through shoulder bones, continued through ribs, and found a man's heart. She did not see him fall, already having turned to her third and final opponent.

“Who kills me!” cried the final man, backing away and shaking.

Azo pursued him to the edge of the ravine. “Azo Honoo,” she replied. Her sword cut through his forehead, and he fell into the ravine without another sound.

It was quickly done. She did not hear the sound of fighting elsewhere, and presumed the other battle was finished as quickly.

“Tomoe Gozen!” she called. There was no answer. Azo Hono-o rushed toward a figure half hidden by brush. It was Tomoe, sitting on her knees cleaning blood from her sword. Three corpses lay around her. She looked up and said to Azo,

“You make a lot of noise killing. I finished these three at one stroke.”

“Stand up and duel,” said Azo. “It is our turn.”

Tomoe stood, sheathed her sword, and left the three corpses. She returned to the bank overlooking the two rivers, then sat down upon her knees once again.

“What are you doing?” demanded Azo. “We will fight now!”

“I won't,” said Tomoe.

Azo looked stricken. She took the varnished hat from off her head and tossed it away. She said, “It was agreed!”

“I don't care.”

“It was agreed!” Azo repeated, more confused than angry. There was nothing in tradition to allow for behavior such as Tomoe's.

“Chop off my head, then. I won't stop you.”

Azo looked at the unreasonable woman intensely, feeling unhappy about the direction of events. She walked around Tomoe slowly, striking threatening postures. “I want to test your blade!” she exclaimed.

“Take it. Test it.”

“I want to test you!”

“I refuse. Kill me if you want to. I won't resist.”

“Tell me why!” Azo pleaded, her tone dwindling from fierce to exasperated.

“All of my life,” said Tomoe, “I have been faithful to the Way of the Warrior, to
bushido.
Suddenly I am told to break faith with my master by marrying. If my master were not a woman, no one would insult her by commanding one of her samurai to be unfaithful. If I were not a woman, they would not be so surprised that I balk and fight when given orders contrary to my master's will.”

Azo Hono-o sat down on her knees facing Tomoe. They looked each other eye to eye. “Surely you will be allowed to serve the Lady of Shigeno Valley your requisite amount of time,” said Azo. “Meeting your betrothed is not the same as an immediate marriage.”

“That is true,” said Tomoe. “It is not reasonable that I refuse to marry.” She sighed heavily. “But I have tasted adventure, Azo! I have seen too many good fighting women given to the defense of households, never riding off to battle, never fighting for more than a husband's holdings or their own dubious virtue. I have never wanted to be like them.”

“I am still too young to have your worry,” said Azo, for in Naipon marriage was not encouraged until mid-twenties for women, early thirties for men, as it was not a good idea to begin a family at too young an age in a tangibly finite island nation. Azo added, “But when my father eventually arranges my marriage, I will be glad to serve Naipon by serving my husband.”