The Samurai's Daughter Read Free Page A

after?’
    The man hesitated as if taken aback by her boldness. He glared at her defiantly.
    ‘Where is he, that traitor?’ he growled. ‘I know he’s here.’
    He spoke in the broad vowels of a southerner. So he was a man of the Satsuma clan, like Taka’s father. It was her father he was after. She knew her father had enemies, it was far from the first time someone had come looking for him. The man must have spotted the family crest on their rickshaw.
    ‘What do you think you’re doing, a Satsuma man, waving your sword like a thug? You should be ashamed. The police will be here any moment. You’d better leave quickly, while you have the chance.’
    ‘He’s here, I know he is, that traitor Kitaoka.’ He spat out the name.
    Fujino drew herself up. In her voluminous skirts she filled the room. The man seemed to shrink before her.
    ‘Be careful how you speak of my husband, fellow,’ she boomed. ‘He’s a far greater man than you’ll ever be.’
    The man raised his sword a little, keeping the blade pointing down.
    ‘Your husband?’ he sneered. ‘You’re no samurai wife. I know a geisha when I see one. You’re that fat Kyoto whore, that precious geisha of his. You’ve certainly come up in the world since you were swanning around the pleasure quarters, haven’t you, Princess Pig! Well, I’ll spoil your pretty face.’
    Fujino raised her dagger.
    ‘Coward. We’re all women and children here.’
    ‘Women and children. I’ve got women and children of my own to support. Shame on you, with your fancy barbarian clothes, filling your stomachs with barbarian food. We didn’t fight and die to see our women aping stinking barbarians. My name is Terashima Morisaburo,’ he added, tearing off his scarf to reveal a swarthy face with a scar puckering one cheek. ‘You can tell Kitaoka one thing. He thinks he can take our swords, he thinks we’re going to hand them over just like that and leave ourselves defenceless. He thinks we’re going to stand by while he disbands the army and recruits peasants – peasants! – to do the work of samurai. And what are we supposed to do, we samurai, how are we supposed to survive when we have no work and no stipends? Well?’ The man took a step further into the room. ‘Answer me that!’
    He reached his sword under Fujino’s skirts and jerked the blade upwards. She stepped back out of the way but Taka heard the fabric rip.
    ‘That’s what I think of your western finery.’
    There was a swish as the man swung his sword. Taka gasped in horror. Fujino raised her dagger to parry the blow, but instead of the clang of steel on steel, there was a dull thud. Peeking from behind Haru’s skirts, Taka saw that the man had misjudged the height of the room. The sword had lodged in the low crossbeam of the ceiling and stuck there, quivering.
    Then she noticed a movement in the hallway outside and caught a glimpse of dark skin and the flash of eyes, slanted like a cat’s. There was someone else there – not the rickshaw boy, not the grooms, but another attacker, even more fearsome than the first. The restaurant was totally silent. Everyone had fled. There was no one to protect them from these villains.
    Sawdust showered from the ceiling and there was a splintering sound as the samurai wrenched his sword free. He raised it again, holding it in both hands, preparing to bring it down in a death blow.
    Suddenly a thin arm snaked out of the shadows behind him and wound around the man’s neck. Taken by surprise, the samurai stumbled backwards. His head jerked back and he grabbed at the fingers as they tightened around his neck. His face turned purple and his sword fell from his grasp. Fujino lunged forward and snatched it up. Bellowing with rage, the samurai thrashed with his elbows, prised the fingers off, spun round and started pummelling his assailant.
    Taka caught a glimpse of the new arrival’s face and her jaw dropped as she realized he was just a boy, a scrawny boy. His eyes were