Chapter 4: The Ronin

The confrontation

“Are you the ronin Hinada Ayomi?” Fuyukaze shouted the words, fire burning in his heart as he laid eyes upon the man in a bright green kimono. The figure turned, looking back upon him with a smirk, his hand slipping from the sleeves of his robe to rest upon the hilt of his katana.

“And what if I am boy? What is your business with me?” he asked rising up from the table and striding confidently towards the young man, assured in his skill towards some child-samurai.

Fuyukaze retreated a few steps his hand own hand wrapped around the bands of blue silk that wrapped around the hilt of his sword, his hands trembling. “I am Taeshimo Fuyukaze! You killed Goshiro Yoshio, a student of the Katsukana academy, you stole his sword from his dead body. Now I have come to avenge him!” he screamed out, his words having the practiced cadence from being recited a thousand times before. He drew his blade from his sheath, the katana glistening in the light. Several screams from the nearby townsfolk erupted as they scattered, while others just watched from safety.

Ayomi laughed softly, looking at the child in disbelief “Ah Taeshimo-sama, how lucky I am to have such a worthy opponent.” he spat the words out with sarcasm dripping like venom. He strode confidently from the inn, stepping in a slow circle around the brash young samurai. He stroked the hilt of his sword with his palm as if stroking a cat, allowing himself a simple smile “I will treasure our fight, however brief it may be and I will enjoy the drink and pleasures that selling your sword will bring me.” With a simple tug he drew his sword from his sheath with practiced ease. The ronin allowed himself a soft smirk as he stepped back into stance, his blade held behind him and low to the ground aligned with his leg. The stance was inviting with no obvious defense, still the smug confidence of the man held the threat.

Fuyukaze held his own blade forward, aimed at Ayomi's throat, both hands gripping the katana loosely. He circled in time with the ronin, carefully choosing each step, trying to watch his opponent. The cold grip of fear took his heart, and in that instant he knew he faced a superior foe and knew he was going to die. As he faced down the man in the street a cold caress trickled down his spine. The thought that this drifter could kill him had never crossed his mind until now, and now that thought was foremost in his mind. Fuyukaze knew that he was going to die facing this man.

The tension was broken as that confident smile faded, Ayomi lunging forward with a quick flick of his wrist, sweeping the blade up towards the boy. Fuyukaze in turn stepped back, pushing the blade to the side, only to gasp as it simply cut over his own blade, turning quickly to slice down again. The shock of the motion made Fuyukaze draw his blade down and away as he ducked, the ronin's blade crashing down upon his, sending sparks from the crash of steel upon steel.

His parry did not keep him for long for a moment later a swift kick to the jaw sent Fuyukaze down upon the dirt road, dust settling upon his robes and he staggered to stand. Ayomi never ceased his assault though, sweeping wide, and this time the tip of his blade left a cut across Fuyukaze's chest. The silk was cut, and a line of blood began to form.  Ayomi backed away, a triumphant gleam in his eye which slowly faded when he realized his blow was shallow.

Fuyukaze staggered back blinking and reaching down to touch his chest, still dazed from the first blow he tried to regain his stance but the pain in his chest burned when he tried to draw the blade close. He held the blade wide to avoid the pain but felt himself open, the boy sucked in his breath knowing his end would come soon.

Ayomi saw the weakling staggering, and drew his blade close, stepping in closer and closer, then finally sweeping a cut down from shoulder to hip, his blade cutting away his opponents, watching the tip fall he twisted his wrist ready to cut when suddenly Fuyukaze dropped to a knee his head falling as the boy stumbled. Then in a sudden motion, whether through training or sheer desperation the young samurai forced his blade up, catching the blade, and driving up into Ayomi's chest. There they lay locked in the fatal embrace for several seconds. Ayomi stared down in hatred until the light faded from his eyes.

Fuyukaze pushed the foe off of him, stepping away as he drew his bloody blade from the ronin's torso. He drew a hand to his left shoulder and found the blood there, rushing firmly. He began to walk away, but the thought of the ronin's head caused him to pause and he turned back to look at the fallen man. Fuyukaze's legs had grown weak from the loss of blood, and he stumbled again, the world spinning around him as he fell down face first upon the dirt, still clutching his wound before he lost consciousness.