Withdrawing
15 September 1998
by Jason Postma

The villagers of the Fukawa village stood side-by-side, holding pitchforks, threshers, and scythes, anything that might be used as a weapon. Jinjiro had to admit that these people had more courage than the average peasant. Living this far from the protection of samurai probably emboldened them.

A hush fell over the village. Jinjiro could see the farmers near him clutch their weapons tighter. Over the noise of the river could be heard marching feet. The feet of an army. The fear of the villagers was almost a stench on the air. Jinjiro did not tense at all. He was ready, bow in hand and several arrows set in the ground before him.

Suddenly the enemy came into view. Horrid, near-featureless white porcelain masks made the dead all the more frightening. They made no noise as they saw the villagers. They did not quicken their pace, as any army of men would at the sight of the enemy.

Jinjiro nocked an arrow and released a moment later, his shot aimed by instinct. He had another arrow ready even as the first struck the mask from a walking corpse. His second shot downed another, and now the dead were in the river, their pace slowing of necessity in the water. Jinjiro's third shot found home, and then he slung the bow to allow him free use of his katana.

The first of the dead that crossed the river found himself facing Jinjiro, arms at side, feet wide apart in the classic dueling stance of the Kakita. The mask betrayed no recognition of the challenge being presented, no hint that honor had ever meant something to this thing. Jinjiro's katana was suddenly in his hand and the skeleton fell to the ground, its mask shattered.

The peasants ran forward with a disorganized yell, heartened by Jinjiro's first strike.

The battle was joined.

It was a nightmare for Jinjiro. There were far more of the dead than had attacked before, and even with his speed he was always on the verge of being overwhelmed. At every turn he would remove a mask only to find three more in its place. The peasants around him began to die, and Jinjiro could do little to help–there were too many. The battle at Usagi castle had been a different world from this.

The dead had forded the river and were about to overrun the village. Jinjiro heard a cry from Ozaki and made his way as swiftly as he could to the young samurai. There, behind a wedge of the dead, was the creature behind this battle. An ancient, decrepit corpse that walked again, standing next to the armored form of a long-dead bandit king. The figure gestured, and the dead that had fallen rose again to the attack.

Jinjiro felt his bow at his back, but he had no room to draw. If he sheathed his katana the dead would be upon him in moments. The thought was costly; a skeleton managed to catch Jinjiro a glancing blow that shot pain through his arm. The dead thing fell in a flash and Jinjiro switched his katana quickly to the other hand.

He turned to see Naoki about to climb a building. Yes! Jinjiro rushed to the building, preparing to climb himself, but quickly realized his wound would not allow it. He did not have the staying power of the Crab. Turning with a snarl, Jinjiro fought to keep an escape route open for Naoki.

He saw Kataji and Ozaki find each other in the battle. The two began fighting together, and in the midst of the nightmare, Jinjiro saw beauty once again. Ozaki and Kataji's movements were true artistry of the sword. Each swift strike by the no-dachi of the Usagi clan was balanced perfectly with the blow of a Crab tetsubo. Kataji formed a rock around which Ozaki danced like the tide; now forward, now back. Each step in perfect time to allow Kataji to strike past the Hare samurai. The two were glorious together.

Jinjiro turned his attention to Naoki again, just in time to see the warrior jump to the next house. He must be blocked from where he now stands. Jinjiro moved again to keep open Naoki's route to the river, holding the dead back more than destroying them.

Naoki's oath after his last shot was heard even over the roar of battle, and Jinjiro guessed the shot was now impossible.

Kataji yelled over the battle:

"Jinjiro! Go!"

Jinjiro turned his attention once more to the embattled pair. It was obvious, from where he stood, that Kataji could not escape on his wounded knee. He was holding his ground in part because he could not leave it.

Jinjiro understood. He paused to destroy one more of the dead, then ran for the river. As he left he could somehow hear the words that he knew would be the last between two old friends over the noise of battle.

"Goodbye." Naoki. Naoki understood as well.

"Do me the honor." Kataji.

Jinjiro reached the river and took one more look back to see the valiant warrior, still holding his ground while all others who could fled. He paused for just a moment to view this, the highest expression of bushido, then turned to the river.