The Escape

“Kill the dog if you find him!” The red armored ashigaru went scurrying back and forth through the thrush trying to find Tsutomu. “I swear I struck him with my arrow!” shouted one of the mounted samurai. “He must be somewhere near. He could not have gotten very far.”

Tsutomu whispered, “ Trot my way and I will strike your pompous head off.” He gripped his katana with a grimace that revealed the pain exploding throughout his body. The arrow struck him in the right shoulder between the armor plating. The shock threw him to the ground.

He slowly climbed higher and higher away from the blood thirsty voices of his enemy. The cypress trees canopying the mountain became his big brother shielding him from the wolf pack. “I just want to lie down and sleep. The cool moss feels so good. No, I must continue to climb higher and higher. I must live.”

“Tsutomu, you cowardly dog come out and fight! Die like a real samurai!”
“And you are?” thought Tsutomu. “You will all die by the edge of my blade for your treachery.” The predatory growls grew fainter as he slowly ascended the misty Yamagata mountains. “Thank you Buddha for having mercy on me.”

He pulled himself up over slippery rock and muddy path. He stumbled higher and higher into the mist. “Is that the sound of a stream?” The song of water caused him to forget all caution. He ran and threw himself into the foamy torrent. The smooth pebbles of the streambed felt cool and clean as he lapped water into his dry mouth. He tore a patch of watercress from the crevice of a rock and crunched on its peppery leaves for nourishment. “I need real food. They will search here. I need to keep moving.”

He reached over his back and with one quick pull, ripped the arrow from his shoulder. He muffled his groan. “Why didn’t my armor stop this damn arrow? Why wear this stupid, heavy thing anyway? It doesn’t work!” Staggering to his feet, he moved slowly up the stream. The finches flitted over his head as he went deeper and deeper into the mountain forest. Bamboo groves, here and there, provided a natural palisade against the harsh mountain wind that swept over this region. They rustled and whistled in the blustery weather.

Pushing aside brush and branches, he refrained from chopping anything with his katana. His stealth training as a ninja proved useful in evading search parties. “The less I touch, the less they’ll find.” He discovered some healing herbs under a red pine tree, chewed it, and placed the regurgitated mixture right on his open wound. It stung.

The sun had set a long time ago and fatigue began to get the best of him. “Is that a temple up ahead? Yes, it is!” With his katana dragging in the weeds, he made for the dim light coming from one of the windows. He heard chanting and smelled the incense. He crawled up the cold, stone steps and banged on the weather beaten door.