Kill the Shogun by Dale Furutani Read Free Book Online

precarious status of a ronin to that of a street entertainer. His samurai pride was repelled by the thought of pity, but his duty of finding the girl kept his pride in check. He finished climbing the stairs and went into the small room he had rented.
    I ’d like to follow him up those stairs,” the merchant’s wife said as she watched Kaze ascend to his room.
    “You’d have to make room on the
futon
for a third, because I’ll be right behind you,” the servant said.
    Both women laughed. The wife said, “If my husband knew I had such thoughts, he’d kill me! Still,” she said, looking up the stairs where Kaze had departed, “that is one handsome man. So good-looking, and with such muscles in his arms and shoulders.”
    “I’m more interested in another muscle of his,” the servant said.
    The wife laughed and slapped the servant’s arm. “You’re bad!”
    “I don’t have a husband to worry about. I’ve been sending him signals ever since he showed up here, but he seems so preoccupied that I don’t think he notices.”
    “He is very intense,” the wife said. “I also think there’s a sadness to him. I don’t know why.”
    “He obviously wasn’t always a street entertainer. Such polite manners; you don’t learn such things on the street.”
    “Maybe he’s fallen from some higher station in life,” the wife said.
    “Maybe it’s some tragic love affair,” the servant said romantically. “He’s probably trying to forget some woman.”
    “I’d like to help him forget! My worthless husband has been spending all his time and money on trying to get rich through gambling.”
    The servant knew better than to agree about the worthlessnessof the master. It was quite all right for a Japanese to criticize a spouse or child, but quite something else for a stranger to do the same thing, especially if he was a servant in the house.
    K aze knew there were people in the house long before he heard their voices. He slept with his hand on his sword, so he saw no need to act, or even move from the warm comfort of the futon, until he understood what was happening. Finally, one of the talkers raised his voice.
    “Where is that worm?” A strange man’s voice.
    “I don’t know. I suppose he’s out gambling.” The vegetable merchant’s wife.
    “What! He’s gambling somewhere else? He owes my boss money. We want it! How dare he gamble somewhere else, after we’ve given him credit!”
    “My husband says your boss doesn’t run an honest game. He says—”
    A sharp slap, followed by a yelp of surprise and pain. Kaze quickly got up and shrugged into his kimono. They weren’t killing her, so there was no need to rush down the stairs dressed in just his loincloth and a sword.
    “Please don’t hit my mistress!” The servant.
    “Keep out of this or you’ll get the same.” A second man’s voice. So there were at least two of them.
    “Hey, maybe we should give them both something, just so that bastard understands we’re serious!” A third voice.
    “What do you mean?” The second voice again, so perhaps there were only three of them. Kaze, his kimono on, started down the steep stairs.
    “Well, they’re no beauties, but they aren’t bad looking. Maybe we should… say, who are you?” The speaker spotted Kaze descending the stairs.
    There were three of them. Two had swords, indicating they were ronin. One was the man talking to Kaze. The third man was not carrying a sword, but he towered over the others by a good head and his body was at least twice as wide, and very muscular. He could easily be a wrestler, like the kind who wrestled at the shrines during religious holidays.
    “I’m your etiquette teacher,” Kaze announced.
    “Etiquette teacher? What kind of stupid thing is that to say?”
    Kaze sighed. “See why I’m needed? First you slap
okusama
, the honorable wife of this house, and now you are rude to me.” He shook his head. As he did so, he was gauging the manner of men he was facing. If