The Golden Naginata by Jessica Amanda Salmonson Page B

friend, it may have been by his newer name.”
    â€œHe is unmistakable,” said Tomoe, anxious for news of the man. “He’s extraordinarily severe, yet kind in his heart. He was a samurai destined to be famous, except that he was forced to resign from the world because of circumstances beyond his control.”
    â€œYou were part of his troubles?” asked Shindo, encouraging her to continue. “Today’s fight reminds you of a past error?”
    â€œIt was unavoidable!” said Tomoe. “Goro and I served the same master, the father of Toshima-no-Shigeno. When the warlord died, it was my sword that killed him. I wanted to commit suicide to atone, but Toshima absolved me of guilt. Goro Maki, however, remained bound by samurai rules to fight me, despite our friendship. He was also bound to obey the warlord’s heir, Toshima. To prevent the fight, she commanded Goro to leave and become a monk, forsaking all samurai privileges. She then made me her chief vassal. To other people, this is old history. To me, it is sometimes as clear as this morning’s events. No one has seen Goro Maki since that terrible situation. I would like to know he bears me no animosity. It’s hard to lose friends.”
    â€œThere are many stories like that one among the yamahoshi,” said Shindo. “My own instructor might have been a famous samurai, but circumstances drove him to cloister. He will never talk of it. My own history is less extreme, yet I might have been the priest of an important shrine but for family disputes. I volunteered for something with less prestige because I was least proud, and it ended jealousies. It was frightening at first, going to the yamahoshi monastery. I’d been told they were bitter men, for it is true that the Way of the Warrior is complex and arbitrary enough to cause many warriors to choose either harakiri or retiremen, through no cause of their own. Since then, I’ve grown fond of the yamahoshi. They are as honorable as famous men! They obey no government but their own. They practice martial skills by challenging demons such as oni and tengu. They banish evil with their swords but ask no thanks or fame. Because they understand the importance of attending supernatural events, my instructor quickly said, ‘Go!’ when I begged leave to avenge Okio. I’ll return to the mountain after this commission and not leave again until I’m a strong warrior-monk.”
    â€œI would like to see you then,” said Tomoe, “with your whiskers and long hair.”
    â€œIt will hide my ugly face!” said Shindo happily.
    â€œNot so ugly,” said Tomoe. She was at ease for the first time that day. “It’s a face of large character.”
    Shindo looked pleased.
    The brown duck sleeping in the reeds was disturbed. She made frightened noises and burst from cover, flapping into the sky. Shindo stood up immediately and took a stout posture.
    â€œEvil spirit!” cried Shindo. He struck the ground with the bottom of his staff, and the three rings at the top jangled. “Back to the mountains with you!”
    Tomoe stood and looked in the direction of the reeds. She did not see anything, but realized something was amiss since it had been quiet for so long. Shindo struck the ground again. The sound of the rings was meant to frighten devils and ghosts away.
    â€œHow do you know what it is?” asked Tomoe.
    â€œA yamahoshi knows!” he said. “Even a novice like me. Look!” He pointed with his staff. For a split second, the moon shone on the face of a hideously ugly, brilliant red oni.
    â€œOni devil!” said Tomoe; but the specter slunk out of sight too fast for her to be certain.
    â€œYou know them, too,” said Shindo.
    â€œI have fought them in the past,” said Tomoe. “They are fierce with weapons, but cannot speak.”
    Shindo struck the ground again. Something besides an oni devil appeared on