Samurai Son by M. H. Bonham

things.”
    “What about your family?”
    Akira laughed.   “They don’t care.   My father, the daimyo, is more interested in politics and intrigue.   I hardly think he would know I was even gone.”
    “What about your mother, Ikumi?”   The Tengu’s eyes glowed brightly, but Akira barely noticed.
    “I don’t know.   She’d probably miss me for a while, but she doesn’t seem to be interested in me and my training.”   Akira paused.   “I don’t know what she’s interested in, but I don’t think it’s me.”
    “So what would you do if you were Tengu?”
    “I’d live forever, wouldn’t I?   And I could fly and control the winds like you do.”   He paused.   “What else can you do?”
    “We can shapeshift.”   The Tengu changed from his normal form into that of a crow and back again.   “And we can call storms down on anything.”
    Akira grinned.   “Yes, I would like that.   To be able to fly, change shape at will, and be free—without anyone bothering me about my sword lessons because I would already be good.”   He leaned against the bo, his lessons quite forgotten, and looked at the Tengu.   “Call the winds.”
    “Not now,” the Tengu said.   “You must work on your bo if you want to keep Rokuro from bruising you badly.”
    “But I want to see you call a storm.”
    The Tengu shook its head.   “Very well, but only if you beat me three times with your staff.”   At that, he leaped at Akira, swinging the bo.
    Akira sprang backward and barely blocked the bo as it came swinging toward him.   He blocked and countered, smacking the Tengu on the wrist.   The Tengu hissed and brought the other end of the staff at Akira.   Akira was too close, though, and the Tengu’s bo smacked him hard on the butt.   Another strike to the legs, but Akira was quick and jumped up, letting the staff sweep below him with a whoosh.   Akira tried an overhead strike, but the Tengu twisted into a lunge and slammed the staff, end first, into Akira’s chest.
    Akira fell backward, gasping, and landed in the dirt.   His eyes filled with tears, and he found he could not breathe.   He looked up at the Tengu, but it suddenly disappeared.   Instead, a man was walking toward him, sword drawn.

Chapter Thirteen
     
    Kasumi slept fitfully that afternoon.   Normally she would change into her cat form and curl into a ball to sleep, but here on a busy ship, she was more likely to be discovered.   The sailors were superstitious enough to do something rash like attack her or even throw her overboard.   And while as a tiger she was a powerful swimmer, she doubted that she could swim to an island before she became tired and drowned.   While many men on board might be interested in her, her status as a samurai and her twin swords were enough to keep them away and wary.   Anyone who dared touch a samurai would be put to instant death.   She could kill a man at her whim for a perceived slight, and no one would argue.
    Except perhaps her conscience.
    She regularly slept in her clothing with her swords nearby just in case.   As she stood up from her mat, she lit an oil lamp and unlatched the door.   The gentle sway of the ship and creak of the timbers told her that they were on relatively calm seas.   As she opened the door, she saw a small tray with rice, pickled fish, and lukewarm tea sitting in front of her door.   Her stomach rumbled as she realized she had missed dinner.
    She pulled the tray inside and set it on her mat.   She ate the rice and fish with her fingers, not bothering to use the chopsticks, and gulped down the cooling cup of tea.   The food seemed to make her feel better, even though her thoughts were dark.
    The wind kami had told her that a shadow followed her.   Normally she would discount the words of the wind as being fickle and unreliable, but something within her stopped her from dismissing it entirely.   The wind kami seldom lied about what they sensed.   But they were not