Doctor Who_ The Room With No Doors - Kate Orman [5]
Aoi leapt down from his horse and ran to pick up his father’s sword. The foreigner’s arrow was sticking up out of the earth next to it. At any moment, another arrow might fly down, but Aoi pushed that thought away, just snatched up his father’s sword and threw it to him with a wordless shout.
‘Get behind him!’ his father roared. Aoi vaulted back on to his horse and rode into the forest.
It took only a minute to ride right around the hill. Aoi leapt down from the steed and ran up the slope, trampling pale spring flowers, drawing his sword.
He heard the unmistakable thwack of an arrow being loosed, and his heart convulsed in his chest. If that gaijin had slain his father. . .
He could see the stranger. The man let fly another arrow, then jumped down from his horse and slapped its flank. The horse cantered off through the trees to the left.
From his vantage point above the stranger, Aoi could see his father, bending to snatch up his sword again. He ran, holding the weapon, following the horse – it was a decoy!
If the traveller was such a good shot, why didn’t he slay his opponent?
Aoi stepped out from behind the tree. ‘ Gaijin-san! ’ he shouted.
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The man whirled. Aoi came down the slope, carefully, feet slipping in the wet grass. ‘Draw your sword!’ he shouted.
‘I don’t have a sword,’ the man pointed out.
‘Then surrender,’ demanded Aoi.
‘All right then,’ said the man. He carefully leant his bow against a tree.
Aoi came towards him, keeping his sword handy. ‘I am Itachi Aoi,’ he said.
‘Call me Isha,’ said the little man.
Now that Aoi was closer, he could see just how strange this ‘Doctor’ looked.
The skin as pale as a woman’s, the oddly textured clothes, the strange eyes. It was as though he was some kind of kami instead of a human being. His eyes especially. They were the colour of the sky, or of the ocean on a stormy day, or perhaps they were the colour of –
Aoi realized that the man’s fingers had gently closed over his sword hand.
He snatched his hand out of the demon’s grasp, and raised his sword for a killing strike.
The man blocked Aoi’s wrist with the back of his hand, his fingers twisting to catch and pull the samurai’s sword arm down. The katana slapped against the little man’s leg and sprang out of Aoi’s grip.
The next thing Aoi knew, he was lying amid the flowers. He rolled over, frantic. His father would return at any moment.
The katana was sticking up out of the ground. The man drew it out and ran a fingernail down its edge, admiring the metal.
‘Kill me,’ said Aoi.
The man looked down at him. ‘There is such a thing as the Hippocratic Oath, you know,’ he said.
‘Please,’ said Aoi. A terrible cold calm had taken hold of him. He knew just the right thing to do. ‘You’ve defeated me fairly, honourable opponent. Finish it.’
The man said, ‘You can’t be older than sixteen, why don’t –’
Aoi had snatched out his wakizashi. The man froze in place, staring at the short sword. ‘There’s no need to do that,’ he said.
Aoi unbuckled his armour, one-handed, frantic, exposing his chest and belly.
The man stood very still, holding the katana, not daring to move.
Aoi turned the blade in his hand.
The man knelt down, suddenly, and put the katana on the grass.
Aoi stared at it. The little man bowed to him. ‘The victory is yours, honourable opponent,’ he said, calmly.
Aoi didn’t understand. He saw his hand reach out, felt his fingers close around the hilt of his katana.
‘Son!’
He looked up. His father stood across the clearing.
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Aoi leapt to his feet, holding both weapons, his armour in disarray.
‘Well done!’ said his father. He strode across the clearing, glanced down at the little man, and looked at both swords. ‘Well done indeed. There’s no greater victory than one without bloodshed.’
Kiiro had defeated the other traveller after quite a fight, while Aoi and his anx-ious captive watched. Kiiro bound the giant and dragged him before Father, pushing him on to his knees.
The sun was going down. Aoi was given the job of collecting fallen wood from the darkening forest. Kiiro stood