The Way of the Fox Read Free

business!”
    “What business?”
    “An earth- shattering, wild, amazing business!” The fox trot-trot-trotted merrily along. “With plum wine!”
    The fox began to cross the muddy ford, leaping between stepping stones on delicate black feet. She paused and suddenly looked back at Kuno.
    “Hey! This tournament of yours? Um – are you wearing that armour?”
    Kuno glowered. “ What is wrong with my armour?”
    “Oh, it’s perfectly lovely! You know – I just wouldn’t want it to get all scuffed.” She slipped into the bushes beside the road and vanished. “Don’t step on my stuff!”
    Asodo Kuno still felt somewhat confused.
    “Why are we investigating an empty road?”
    Sura’s voice drifted merrily from the ferns ahead.
    “I investigate things to complete my knowledge! When my knowledge is complete, my heart shall be sincere. When I act with a sincere heart, my actions shall be pure, and I shall be loved by all the myriad things!”
    The ever patient Tonbo knelt down. He carefully rolled up Sura’s clothing – short sword, divided skirts, printed robes and all – and stuck them through the top of his pack. The big man effortlessly shouldered Sura’s backpack beside his own, then hefted his enormous club.
    “I can take the spear.” He reached for the weapon and shouldered it alongside his tetsubo. “Come, Kuno san. It is five ri to the main Ayamejo road.”
     
     
    The road became a narrow lane threading onward beneath dark , oppressive trees. Last year’s fallen leaves carpeted the road in mats of yellow-brown. Somewhere up ahead, birds croaked and insects droned: the scent of distant marshland began to sour the air. Tonbo and Kuno walked side by side in a world of shadows, their footfalls sounding soft and hushed upon the old, damp leaves.
    Somewhere in the woods beside them, the fox kept careful guard. Sura moved through the weeds in utter silence. Tonbo seemed aware of her location, never needing to glance. But Kuno flicked his eyes from side to side, trying to divine her presence. He thought her saw her only once – her tail tip flashing white: but it was nothing but a patch of onion weed waving in the breeze.
    Kuno and Tonbo walked in companionable silence. Tonbo’s presence was oddly calming: Kuno’s anxieties about promotion vanished. They padded onwards through the gloom, and felt the strange, still forest echoing all around them.
    The place felt… empty. Watchful. Old leaves blew through the underbrush, clattering as they flew. After a long hour of walking together, Kuno and Tonbo finally heard the first small sign of human life.
    A chant rosed and fell slowly in the gloom: a prayer chanted by a deep, growling voice. The rhythm of the words seemed to linger through the trees, drifting off along the abandoned road.
     
    “Homage to Amida Buddha,
    I n sixteen trillion manifestations.
    Homage to the lord of the Pure Land.
    H omage to the way of the Lotus,
    T hat breaks forth from the karmic wheel.
    Jiz ō, guardian of travellers,
    P lace this road beneath your gaze.
    Bodhisattva of mercy,
    T ake all those who tread this road into your heart.”
     
    Beside the road, there stood a silent village – a place half overgrown with weeds. A broad inn that had no customers: a sandal shop with empty shelves.
    On the roadside just beyond the village, an ancient, bowed old woman knelt beside an aged monk. Both prayed before a rough-hewn statue of Jizō , the deity of travellers. The monk continued his deep, powerful dirge, running his rosary between his hands and frowning deeply into the statue’s face.
    The two samurai bowed to the villagers, then bowed most profoundly to the statue. They stood and waited until the monk had finished his litany. Kuno then respectfully bowed to the man once more.
    “ Honoured monk. Honoured grandmother – please forgive us for disturbing you.” Kuno looked at the statue beside the road – it still had tool marks bright against the stone. “You are placing a