Read Online Samurai Son by M. H. Bonham - Free Book Online

the bridge of the nose as though he had barely escaped a katana swipe.   His dark and menacing eyes gazed at Akira with a feral hunger.
    This was a ronin, a lordless samurai who chose dishonor before death.   Akira had heard stories about ronin, how mercilessly they treated those they came upon.   It was difficult for Akira to believe that such murderers and thieves could’ve been noble samurai like himself or his father.
    “You have money?”   The ronin drew his katana and pointed it at Akira’s throat.   Akira gulped.   He had not thought to bring his own samurai swords with him, even though it was his right to wear them.   He had always felt safe in his father’s land…. until now.
    All he had was the bo in his hands.   Against a well-made katana, it might be little use, but glancing at the sword, he could tell it was of lesser quality.   The blade had nicks in the edge, and he could see no pattern of proper fold marks.   He bit his lip and held the staff between him and the ronin.
    “No, great samurai,” Akira said.   He scrambled for any lie that seemed plausible.   “I—I am but a poor peasant…”
    “Liar!” the ronin spat.   “Your clothes give you away, merchant.   Where is your purse?”
    Merchant?   Akira frowned.   He hadn’t thought about his clothing, but they would certainly be better than most farmers’.   Yet there were a few farmers in Tsuitori that did make a fair amount of money on their crops.   Akira didn’t want to argue the finer points of economics with a katana in his face, though.   Instead, it would be better that the ronin think he was a merchant and not learn he was the daimyo’s son.   That would get him ransomed.
    “I don’t ha—have any,” Akira said.   “I went for a walk.   I didn’t bring money.”
    “Bah!” the ronin shouted and raised the blade for an overhead strike.   Akira lunged with the bo.   The bo hit the renegade samurai in the chest, and as the ronin brought the blade down, Akira was moving to his right and smacking him in the back with the bo’s other end.   The man screamed and dropped his sword.   Akira smacked the bo against the man’s knees, causing them to buckle.   The ronin fell but picked up his sword as he fell, and Akira found himself face-to-face with an angry warrior.
    He could hear Rokuro’s admonitions in his head: This isn’t a game, Akira.   Someone is going to die once the sword is drawn.   Akira didn’t even have a sword, which made the ronin that much more dangerous.
    You could run, the Tengu whispered in his ear.
    Akira started but didn’t look.   The Tengu had abandoned him to his fate.
    Not true, the Tengu replied, obviously affronted.   I need to see what you’ve learned.
    Akira didn’t bother with a response.   The ronin eyed him warily, trying to judge Akira’s prowess with the bo.   Akira matched him move for move, knowing full well that if he didn’t concentrate, he’d likely be spitted on the ronin’s katana.
    “Boy, put down the stick, and give me your money.   I won’t hurt you,” the ronin said.   His eyes shifted warily from Akira’s bo to his face.
    Keep your face guarded, Rokuro’s voice echoed in his mind.   The warrior who does not broadcast what he is feeling and what he is about to do will be the winner.
    The ronin stepped forward, and Akira took a quick swipe with the bo before coming back to his guard position.   Again the ronin feinted.   This time Akira waited and watched as he withdrew.   He nodded inwardly.   The ronin would try for an opening created by the feint.   If Akira didn’t react, he might simply attack.   But where was the point of commitment?
    The ronin stepped within Akira’s striking distance.   Akira ignored the feint.   While the sword was sharp, Akira had distance with the six-foot staff if he chose to use it.   The ronin pressed forward; Akira judged him to be within his own strike zone and brought the bo crashing down on the