Read Online The Ghost in the Tokaido Inn by Tom Hoobler - Free Book Online Page B

be everywhere at once, gliding as if his feet were
wings, his silver sword flashing in the air. Two of Lord Kira’s
samurai cornered him, and pressed forward with their swords raised
to kill him. Then the audience gasped as Oishi flipped
backward—once, twice, three times— without dropping his sword.
Then, without pausing, he turned and ran it through the two samurai
who had pursued him. Seikei knew then: this must be the man he had
seen defy Lord Hakuseki.
    The Forty-Seven Ronin could not be
defeated, and soon the floor was covered with bodies. The ronin
began to search for the man they had come for—Lord Kira. Each time
they ripped aside a curtain or opened a door, the music swelled.
But they could not find the lord. Children in the audience pointed
to a small bamboo structure that stood at the corner of the stage.
“There, look there!”
    That was Lord Kira’s
hiding-place—an outhouse, a toilet. At last Oishi threw open the
door to reveal a man dressed in a crimson robe. Oishi dragged him
out, and the other ronin surrounded him, a circle of black figures
with the red one at the center.
    Oishi’s eyes were bright with
triumph. “Do you know us?” he cried. “We are the loyal men of the
Lord of Ako. We suffered his disgrace at your hands. We did not
forget.”
    He offered his own long sword to
Lord Kira, holding it under his chin. “You have one chance to save
your own honor. This is the sword that my lord used to kill
himself. I have used it to avenge him. Take it now, take it and
kill yourself, as a samurai should.”
    The silver blade quivered in the
light. Lord Kira raised his eyes. They were filled with terror. He
was, in the end, not worthy to be a samurai. He wriggled out of
Oishi’s grasp and opened his mouth as if to scream for help. The
music rose to a high pitch, and then paused.
    Before Lord Kira could utter a
sound, Oishi raised the sword and in a single swift blow cut off
Lord Kira’s head.
    The audience shrieked. The
red-robed figure slumped to the floor, and Oishi reached down and
picked up the head, holding it high. For an instant, Seikei thought
it was real, but then saw it was a stuffed cloth head, dripping
red.
    The head was swiftly placed into a
basket, and the ronin marched solemnly off stage, carrying it with
them.
    That was not the end of the story,
as Seikei knew. The music played while the lanterns were changed
again, and now the ronin reappeared, bringing their basket to the
court of the shogun.
    The shogun was respected and
feared. In him rested all the ideals of the samurai, but he ruled
Japan with an iron fist. The Forty-Seven Ronin knelt before him,
and once more Oishi told the story of his lord’s disgrace and how
he and the other ronin had avenged his honor.
    The shogun, costumed splendidly in
helmet and leather armor, listened in silence. When Oishi had
finished his tale, the audience waited for the shogun to
speak.
    At last, he rose from his seat.
“You have acted honorably,” he said. “You have done what any
samurai should do. And yet...I cannot allow you to kill a daimyo
without punishment. I have no choice.”
    He bowed his head. “You know what
honor demands. I release you.”
    One by one, the lanterns were
extinguished as the shogun and his courtiers left the stage. Only
the Forty-Seven Ronin remained, standing under the single lantern
that still shone.
    The musicians played their
terrible tune as the Forty-Seven Ronin unsheathed their swords.
Many in the audience could be heard weeping, and Seikei wished
silently that there could be another end to the story.
    But there was not. The samurai
committed seppuku, thrusting their swords into their bodies and
falling lifeless upon the stage. The last to fall was Oishi
himself. He turned his blazing eyes upon the audience and shouted,
“Remember us! For we are the spirit of Japan!”
    The last lantern went out as he
used his sword on himself. For a moment, there was silence, and
then the loud wooden clappers offstage