Blade Of The Immortal Fan Fiction ❯ Abstinence Education ❯ Part Thirty-Two ( Chapter 32 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Madame Manga 
It is better to conquer yourself than to win a thousand battles - Buddha
Anime/Manga: Blade Of The Immortal Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Drama / Samurai | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 11.05.2006 | Pages: 4 | Words: 5.3K | Visits: 754 | Status: Completed
It is better to conquer yourself than to win a thousand battles - Buddha
Anime/Manga: Blade Of The Immortal Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Drama / Samurai | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 11.05.2006 | Pages: 4 | Words: 5.3K | Visits: 754 | Status: Completed
I'm baaack...just in time for the damn holidays! :D
It is better to conquer yourself than to win a thousand battles. – Buddha
The characters and universe of Blade of the Immortal/Mugen no Junin are copyright by Hiroaki Samura and do not belong to me. Not one sen will come into my hands in consequence of this story.
Warnings for sex in various forms, including quasi-incestuous themes and a sixteen-year-old female paired with an adult male. Violence and dismemberment are legally required in any BotI fic, so be prepared. Yes, we're getting closer to the real Samura-style mayhem now...
Historical note: American and British whaling ships began to round the Horn to exploit the South Pacific sperm whale fishery in the late 1700s. For whalers from New England ports like Nantucket and New Bedford, one voyage could take three or four years and run great risks. Castaway sailors who landed on Japanese soil were often imprisoned or executed as spies, since national isolation edicts forbade entry to foreigners other than a few tightly restricted Dutch and Chinese traders. Japanese who tried to leave the country or return from abroad were also subject to the death penalty.
Komo: “Red Hair”, an old Japanese term for the Dutch.
Bodhisattva: Buddhist saint.
Gaijin: Outsider, non-Japanese.
On my Livejournal now: Big glossary for the entire story, plus various historical and manga trivia. Will be expanding!
Abstinence Education
by Madame Manga
Part Thirty-Two
Crashing, scratching, clawing – branches slapped Rin in the face and whipped her arms and legs. She still couldn’t get a deep breath. Her chest hurt and her vision scattered. Her captors scrambled through the forest for some distance, then dove into the underbrush and crawled rapidly along the dank forest floor.
They took a zigzagging path around trees and the trunks of shrubs until Rin lost all sense of direction. Half dragging, half pushing her, thorns tearing at her hair and clothing. Even when she could focus, she could make out almost nothing in the weird greenish shadows. In her half-conscious state this was like a nightmare that wouldn’t end. Pain and darkness were the road, and at its destination –
After what seemed an eternity of torment, Rin wheezed and finally filled her lungs all the way. She gasped and breathed, awareness flooding her like cold water. Her first clear thought was of Manji.
Following? Where? How far had her captors taken her, and in what direction? Was Manji all right? Had someone reloaded that gun? She got out one shaky cry before a sweaty hand clamped over her lower face and cut off her voice.
She smelled rank body odor and heard heavy breathing. The bandits kept down, moving branches out of the way rather than breaking them and squirming along on their bellies like snakes. In a more open spot, they jumped to their feet and ran with her.
Her power of movement seemed to revive in the sunlight. Rin kicked and bit down on the hand that gagged her. The bandit’s flesh tasted salty and foul, but she kept her jaws together and tried to force the points of her teeth into his skin.
“Crap, girlie, knock that off!” He twisted his arm at the elbow and pressed the heel of his hand into her chin.
“Keep it shut, idiot!” the other hissed low.
“Ah, he’s lost the trail – ” Rin heard shouts somewhere off to the left and not very near. “There, see?”
“You better fucking hope he has, because if he catches up, you can take him first.” The bandit in the lead dropped Rin’s legs when they came to another thick wall of brush. “I’ll make way – you bring her along.”
Rin flailed and threw her head from side to side, still biting at the hand. “Man, you’re not the one she’s gnawin’ on – hey, there ain’t no call for that!” The bandit flinched and the taste of blood entered her mouth. Rin freed her head for a moment and shrieked again.
“Manji-san! Manji-san!” She heard an answering call just before the bandit stuffed the end of his scarf into her mouth and clamped his hand over her face again.
Again they crawled under the bushes, the lead man’s tall, broad body forcing a tunnel through which the other could drag her. Rin squeezed her eyes shut to protect them, though her captor seemed to be trying to shield her head and deflect the stabbing twigs from her face. Over the two men’s panting and her own pounding heartbeat, she detected a call again, much nearer now.
“Goddammit – Rin!” A blade whined through the air and ripped the brush; Manji was hacking a shortcut towards her. “Sing out, dammit!”
The dirty scarf stuck to her tongue and made her choke; she couldn’t get out a sound, but she dragged her feet and clutched at branches. Struggling, she impeded the bandits’ progress as much as she could. They cursed and pulled at her. She managed to slow them down, but her strength was giving out – she couldn’t keep this up long. Something tore off her bun cover and let her braids spill free.
Behind them and rapidly closing the distance, Manji crashed down the undergrowth with his blade chopping him a path. Rin heard him grunting as he swung. He wasn’t far behind them now.
“Aw, shit – we ain’t gonna make it!” said her captor.
“Nope, we ain’t.” They broke through into another open area, wide and grassy but shadowed by tall trees. “Gimme her and draw!”
The lead man grabbed Rin and half carried her to a stand of thick-trunked oaks. The gag fell from her mouth and she tried to moisten her dry throat.
The bandit pushed her against a tree and yanked a length of thick cord from around his waist. Rin gained her voice and screamed, but he made no move to silence her now. Instead he pulled her hands in front of her, looped the cord around her wrists and swiftly knotted it. The other end of the cord he used to lash her to the tree, taking a few quick turns over her arms and torso. His hands moved in a blur, but he secured her bonds without making them cruelly tight. Something about his face struck her oddly, but she had no time to register what it was.
The second man drew two swords, faced around and moved back across the clearing. Manji burst from the bushes with the swing of a shido. Locks of loosened hair fell over his face and his clothes had been yanked askew in every direction. Shredded leaves flew as he drew his katana and charged with a yell.
A few strides into the clearing, he met the bandit. Manji’s weapons crashed into his opponent's crossed swords with an air-shocking impact. The man took two backward steps and whipped out with a kick to Manji’s knee. Manji took the shot and staggered, but didn’t fall; he recovered his balance and pressed the attack again with fierce blows. The bandit parried and sidestepped.
The lead man pulled out a chain that hung around his neck and blew a couple of piercing blasts on a brass whistle. Rin paid little attention to him, her eyes fixed on the duel.
The two men circled and made sudden sideways lunges, the bandit always heading Manji away from Rin. Manji’s chest heaved with deep pants and his expression looked wild. He seemed to fight on instinct, swinging with furious strength and not much finesse. His face was distorted almost to unrecognizability, but to Rin he was the most wonderful sight in the world. He was defending her – he had run to her rescue without a thought – everything was all right again!
His stringy, agile opponent moved in a sinuous flicker, dodging Manji’s lashing blades, then darting closer in another attempt to trip him. Under his skimpy clothing, the bandit’s arms and back were covered with a tattooed design of flames and giant snakes. The pictures rippled over his muscles, giving an eerie impression of life.
“Hebi-kun!” The leader opened his jacket and pulled a sheaf of folded lines from his belt. “Stand off! I’m ready.”
The tattooed man began to reply, then hissed in pain. The tip of Manji’s long sword had scored his shoulder; blood streamed from a half-circle cut and spiraled down his arm. He deflected another slash and scrambled away.
“Shit, dude, chill out!” he protested. “We ain’t here to – ”
“Shut it, dipshit!” The leader stepped away from the bound Rin and circled to the left. “Now get outta my way!”
He raised one hand, the lines dangling from it, and Rin noticed that small round weights were knotted into the ends. Hebi skipped aside. Now the bandits flanked Rin; Manji had an opening. He dashed straight for her.
The leader spun his arm and let the lines and weights fly. Rin wondered what he could be doing – that thing wasn’t any sort of weapon, was it? Then the whirling tangle intercepted Manji at the knees; the weights whipped around and around of their own momentum and tightened the lines.
Manji crashed headfirst into the ground, his legs trussed from hips to ankles. Sword and shido flew from his grip and bounced out of his reach. He skidded a little way on his face and lay limp and groaning, obviously stunned.
In an instant the big leader was on him. Rin screamed when he knelt on Manji’s shoulders and reached into his jacket again. Was he going to draw a knife and slash his throat? But the man took out yet another cord and pulled Manji’s right arm behind him.
Manji’s hooked knife appeared in his left hand. He twisted, partly dislodging the bandit, and stabbed backwards. The straight point of the knife dug into the bandit’s thigh, ripping his leggings and scoring his hairy flesh.
Manji yanked the blade free and sliced upwards. The bandit dropped the cord and rolled off him. The strike missed, but Manji flipped himself over and sat upright. He slashed at the lines binding his legs and kicked free.
“Damn it!” The leader stumbled and clutched his bloodied leg.
His long braid fell over his shoulder when he bent forward. Rin suddenly noticed that his hair was strangely light-colored and curled at the ends. He looked up at her when she gasped, and the sight of his pale round eyes and long freckled nose struck her with horror. She shrieked. He wasn’t Japanese nor even an Ezo tribesman – he was –
“What in the fuck... are you?” Manji sounded almost as taken aback as Rin. He spat out some grass, pulled his other shido from his kosode and heaved to his feet.
“Oh, Manji-san!” Rin trembled and stared. “Is that really a foreigner?”
“Ho-lee shit.” Manji wiped blood and dirt from his mouth and nose with the back of his wrist. He examined the man with astonished curiosity, cocking his head from side to side. “Komo, right? Damn, their hair really IS red!”
The bandit grinned, showing several missing teeth in the midst of his scraggly copper-colored beard. He took a dirty rag from his jacket and bound it over his wound. “Naw... I’m no Dutchman. I’m from – ” He slurred a long word that sounded something like ‘Masa-shu-setsu’.
“Haah?” Manji broke eye contact and cast a quick glance at Hebi. The tattooed bandit now guarded Rin, but made no move to attack. “Where the hell’s that?”
“Long way from here.”
“Must be.” Manji’s brows creased; he took another look at Hebi’s intricate tattoos and narrowed his eye at the foreigner. His unthinking rage had expended itself, replaced by wariness. “Now how the hell did a barbarian learn to talk Nihongo?”
“I’ve been rottin’ here four years, big guy. An’ some old shipmates of mine were castaway Jappos. Couldn’t go home again, or...” He drew a thumb across his throat and made a slicing sound. “That’s how the bakufu bastards served the rest of my crew, anyway.”
“Yeah? Why ain’t anybody cut your ugly head off?”
The foreigner reached over his shoulder and drew a long weapon from a sheath strapped down his back. Crude black iron, with a strong shaft and a wicked barbed head the size of a man’s hand. He hefted it and displayed it to Manji with an air of pride. “That’s why.”
“No shit.” Manji eyed the honed point. “You can hit something with that?”
“I was chief harpooneer on a whaler out of Nu-beda-fo.” Rin couldn’t parse that name either – he might as well have said he was from the moon. “Three years’ worth of oil in the hold, and we split our hull in a typhoon off the Bonins and washed up in this godforsaken head-chopping, pickle-eating, floor-squatting misbegotten yellow heathen bunghole of a country.” He gave a formal bow. “Pleased to meet ya, samurai-san.”
Manji laughed. Not at the foreigner’s oddly accented sarcasm, which made Rin boggle, but apparently at a thought of his own. It wasn’t a merry thought; she was reminded of how he had laughed when Makie asked him what he had stolen from an innocent girl.
To Rin’s surprise, Manji turned and looked straight at her, showing his teeth. He seemed both dangerously angry and oddly amused. At himself?
“Yeah, woman, I’m a sucker. You know that better than anybody. But you ain’t screwin’ me twice in one day!”
“Manji-san?”
“Thi s pair of jokers is supposed to take me down?” Manji made a wide gesture with his shido. “Guess again.”
“Guess... what?”
“You really think I’m that soft in the head?” His voice rose to a roar. “Itto-ryu!”
Rin’s mouth dropped open.
“Come on, look at ‘em! Who else but that bunch of freakjobs is gonna hang out with a blue-eyed devil?”
He was right. He had to be right. Rin’s head spun and her vision blurred. Anotsu? Why?
“This all got arranged yesterday at the inn. Bait the hook and pull in a big fat – ”
“Manji!”
“I ain’t playin’ yer little game any more.” He pointed the knife at her. “Gimme one reason I shouldn’t walk right out of here!”
Rin spluttered and stamped her feet. “You... you... That’s so stupid! You're such an idiot!”
“Damn straight I am!” Manji laughed again. “If I hadn’t left my fool head jammed so far up between your legs, I’d’ve figured the real deal the second these two clowns pranced over the hill!”
The bandits looked at each other. The foreigner raised a brow; Hebi gave a clueless shrug. Manji whipped around to glare at them. “Just one thing I want to know. When does Anotsu show up to fetch her?”
“Uh...it’s really not like – ” began Hebi.
“Keep it shut, idiot!” His companion snarled at him.
“Itto-ryu. So... you know me, don’t you?” Manji pointed at his own face.
The foreigner’s long nose twitched, then he shrugged as if Manji’s deduction made no difference. “Heard some rumors.”
“Do tell.”
“Some kind of bullshit about immortality.” He sneered and propped his harpoon on his shoulder. “I ain’t no superstitious Jappo.”
“Yeah... bullshit.” Manji grinned with a glint in his eye. “Man, I always wonder how that one got started.”
“But Mado, this guy picked up his own arm and stuck it back on! You gotta ask Magatsu – ” Hebi flinched when his companion shook his weapon at him.
“I swear, you babble like a tipsy whore! So he was too tough for a few of the Toshu‘s best buds? I ain’t real worried.”
“Then let’s go for it, gaijin.” Manji stalked forward. “I’d hate to have Anotsu think I’d lost my touch!”
“Hey, hey!” Mado raised the black harpoon. “Look, Manji, you got this all wrong.”
“No kiddin’?”
“Just for one, I ain’t even really a member... well, I resigned when we were gonna go legit. I kept in touch, that’s all.”
“Yeah? What about Snakeboy here?” Manji nodded at Hebi.
“Well, he’s in good standing, but see, this ain’t a job we’re doin’ for the Toshu. It was never his deal at all.”
“Hanh?”
“I’m tellin’ you, this ain’t Itto-ryu business!” Mado sounded guileless and matter-of-fact. “We’re working for another guy – we hired on as freelance.”
“Whatta coincidence, then.” Manji spat on the ground again, obviously not believing a word. “Doesn’t matter anyhow, ‘cause I’m feeling pissed enough to butcher a whole army of barbarians toting fish-skewers. Come and get it, ugly!”
“Honest, man, I ain’t shittin’ you. We got to make a living like anybody else, right?” Mado’s head turned at a sound from the forest. “Here they come. Crap, took you long enough!”
“Bullshit. You were running out on us, you stinking gaijin!” A coarse voice answered him from the trees, and the speaker came striding into the clearing. He exactly resembled Rin’s idea of a bandit; he was paunchy and pock-marked, with an oily mustache and flashy, food-stained clothing. At his side swung a single short sword. A pimpled, shifty-eyed boy of about fifteen slunk along behind him, similarly dressed.
“Don’t even talk to me, asshole. I can smell your breath from here.”
“Fuck you!”
“Both of you talk like you were shoveling a dungheap,” said another voice. A hollow-cheeked ronin dressed in threadbare household livery with the family crests removed emerged from the forest right behind the paunchy man and the boy. He gave Rin a covert look. “There is a young woman present.”
None of the new arrivals looked anything like Itto-ryu fighters. Manji grimaced and scanned the men who faced him; he seemed less sure of himself than he had been a few moments before, though that could have been because the odds had just more than doubled against him.
Another sound made Rin start; a louder crashing in the undergrowth. It heralded the approach of a creature much larger than a man. Manji turned his head. Rin heard the jingle of a bridle and a whoosh of breath through a horse’s nostrils.
These men would have had to travel fast to set up their ambush. With a good start, a healthy man on foot could have beaten his quarry to this spot. But a weakened man still recovering from a wound?
Rin squeezed her eyes shut and turned her face to her shoulder, knowing to the pit of her roiling stomach who must be riding that horse. She would never have thought him capable of this crude and thuggish attack. Though he haunted her nightmares and ruined her peace of mind, how could he have stooped to kidnapping her? She could think of only one reason why, and acid rose in her throat. She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t meet those cool narrow eyes. Not in front of Manji!
“The... fuck?” muttered Manji. Rin’s lids snapped up.
A figure walked from the shadows under the trees. It seemed to be a man, but built oddly wide and square. When he emerged into the sunlight, his sharp, bright-colored angles suddenly leaped into clarity. Rin stared in disbelief. A samurai, in full antique armor!
He might have been costumed to play a legendary hero on the stage, in an elaborately decorated and silk-laced o-yoroi topped with a brocade coat. His old-fashioned rivet-studded helmet carried an enormous spreading neck guard and gilded horns. To complete the faintly ridiculous picture, suspended at his side he wore a tachi cavalry sword about as long as Rin was tall.
Right behind him ambled the horse he led. A slight figure sat astride the saddle. He was dressed like a young nobleman, his expensive clothing looking like it belonged to an elder brother. He seemed to be unarmed; he rode awkwardly in his oversized hakama, gripping the pommel with his head down and his face concealed by a wide basket hat. He looked more frightened than dangerous.
But the samurai? If he knew how to use that tachi, Manji was now outnumbered six to one. Manji retreated a few steps to reduce his exposure from behind, his head turning quickly from side to side like a hawk’s.
Quivering in fear, Rin tried to catch his eye. He shifted his grip on his shido and didn’t return her look. Instead he fixed his gaze on the armored samurai with an incredulous frown.
The big boxy figure tied the horse to a tree at the edge of the forest and briefly spoke to the young rider. Then he faced Manji and swaggered forward, his thigh guards flapping with his strides. The lower half of his face was hidden by an iron mask and its bristling horsehair mustache. Only his eyes and brows were visible. He put his arms akimbo with a dramatic swoop of his huge shoulder shields and seemed to be about to make a declaration.
Before the samurai could speak a word, Manji began to laugh again. Not in the grim way that made Rin shiver, but with genuine amusement. The laugh rapidly grew to a belly-shaking guffaw. Rin looked at Manji in surprise when he bent over and slapped his thigh, wheezing. He gave a loud whoop and grinned at her.
“Know him yet, Rin?” She looked blank, and he pointed. “He’s got a good reason to wear that stupid mask!”
Her eyes opened wide.
“Smart idea recruiting all these cheap goons, you little twerp.” He turned back to the samurai, still laughing. “Because maybe... if you run fast enough... I’ll have to waste enough time gutting them for you to save your own ass. Take my advice – dump the clown suit before you split!”
The gilded horns quivered with the samurai’s wrath. He raised a fist and shook it at Manji. “You’ll regret those words, miscreant!” His muffled voice reverberated from the mouth-slot of the mask. “I shall make you suffer great humiliations for your crimes!”
“You know what, dickwad? Thanks for showing up just now. I mean that sincerely, because I was kinda losin’ sight of what I ought to have been doing. Got a little sidetracked.” He pointed his hooked knife straight at the samurai’s face. “Take off that mask or I rip it off. Along with the rest of your face. I want to see how much it hurts when I slice open your soft little belly.”
The samurai fumbled with the fancy double knot tied under the iron mask’s projecting chin. “I am not afraid to face you, scum! You shall know my vengeance is swift and sure!” Unable to negotiate the knot with gloves on, he took a manicure knife from his scabbard and pried at the thick cord to loosen it.
“Hey, take your time.” Manji chuckled. “This is gonna be over way too quickly for my taste anyhow.”
The man tore off the mask and helmet together and threw them on the ground. Red-faced, panting, with a large bandage on his nose and his topknot draggling stray hairs over his shaven pate. His head looked very small projecting from the wide shoulders of the armor.
“I am Tsukue Ryonosuke! You will not speak to me in that – ”
“I know who you are, you little dipshit. You know who I am?”
“Indeed I do! You are not only a crude and barbarous misfit, you are a notorious outlaw! I will take you to Edo in bonds and win great acclaim for your ignominious defeat! Even my father will – ”
“Missin’ Daddy’s money that bad already?” Manji rolled his eye. “I ain’t defeated yet, ‘case you hadn't noticed.”
“Ah, but your little sister is in my power!” Ryonosuke swept an arm to point at Rin. “Every man has his weakness, and I have captured yours!”
“Weakness?” Manji’s glance met Rin’s. Cool, impenetrable, but with a faint smile. “What, now I piss myself and surrender?”
“Well – um... ”
“Fine, little Ryo, you got my attention now.” Manji made a flippant gesture. “You don’t need her any more, so I’ll just cut her loose and you and me can take care of business.” He began to walk towards Rin; the paunchy man and the ronin barred his way with hands gripping their sword hilts. “Move aside, greaseball, or – ”
“You ain't forgetting, are you?” The paunchy man addressed Ryonosuke. “No pay, no deal!”
“Of course... of course! I will make good on all my promises.”
“Assuming you’re alive to settle accounts.” Manji smirked at Ryonosuke. “How many coppers did you have to drop in the taverns to scrounge up this attractive bunch?”
“This is not a cash arrangement,” said the threadbare ronin with an air of affronted rectitude. “It would be beneath my dignity as a samurai to accept – ”
“We get the girl, asshole,” said the paunchy man. He flashed yellow-stained teeth. “This fine young fella here couldn’t show us any gold for our trouble, but he did drop a few enticin’ remarks about your feisty little sister. Couldn’t pass that up – I gotta admit, I never mind takin’ it out in trade.”
Manji looked as still as a rooted oak. Rin thrashed against her bonds; her breath seemed to turn to ice in her lungs.
“She looks somewhat more mature than I had anticipated.” The ronin gave a philosophical sigh and shake of the head. “However, I am resigned to the blows of fate.”
The paunchy man cuffed the pimpled boy on the side of the head. “Gotta make this little shit into a man someday, hah? Tell you what, kid – draw some blood in the fight, and you get second dibs.”
“They have pledged to preserve her life – ” began Ryonosuke, almost apologetically.
“Do you know who I am?” Manji’s tone had lost all sense of humor.
Rin felt a sizzle down her spine. The ronin and the paunchy man each took a step backwards. Even the Itto-ryu men flinched. The boy seemed confused.
Ryonosuke gulped. “Y-yes, I know – ”
“No. You don’t.” Manji cast a look at Rin, too quickly for her to read his face, and turned back to Ryonosuke. “That girl there? You callin’ me her big brother?”
“You are her brother!”
“You ain’t got a clue, you snot-dribblin’ brat. For all you know, she sleeps in my futon and last night I nailed her until she screamed my name!”
“Your own... sister?” Ryonosuke’s mouth gaped open and shut like a fish’s.
“Idiot.” Manji dismissed him and spun around to include the whole circle of armed men. “Before you monkeys decide to draw in this fight, get one thing straight – no man on earth’s gonna even think about putting a finger on that little woman.” He showed his teeth. “Except me.”
The Itto-ryu men stared at him in open consternation.
“Whoa there,” said the paunchy man, looking slightly ill. “I mean, god knows I’m no bodhisattva myself, but bro, that’s really gross.”
Ryonosuke stammered. “You d-despicable felon! You f-foul, depraved animal!”
“Animal, hey? I’m as human as any of you bastards. Which I admit ain’t saying a whole hell of a lot... ” Manji took a deep breath and dropped the knife and shido to stick upright in the ground. With a sweep of his arm he sent three additional blades to join them, their points driving deep into the soft earth. He made one more rapid draw and shook out the chain from his linked sickles. “So who am I?”
The bandit pulled out his short sword; the ronin loosened his katana in its scabbard. Manji looked up and grinned.
“Yeah, I’m that guy who killed a hundred officers singlehanded. Not to mention, I'm also the softest-headed idiot ever born... because I thought no woman could sucker me. Even that little gal over there – the one with the braids and the big brown eyes.” He swung one sickle in an arc and began to spin it over his head, fast and faster. “Makes no difference now – never should have. You want to know who I really am?”
None of the bandits made a sound.
“I got a message for you jokers. Tell those one hundred hungry ghosts… plus a few dozen extra… who are gonna welcome you to hell with open arms – ”
Blade whirring high and a fence of steel before him: for a moment Manji seemed to loom like a tree in a forest of saplings. He smiled.
“Tell them for me... that I’m her fucking bodyguard.”
Continued...
It is better to conquer yourself than to win a thousand battles. – Buddha
The characters and universe of Blade of the Immortal/Mugen no Junin are copyright by Hiroaki Samura and do not belong to me. Not one sen will come into my hands in consequence of this story.
Warnings for sex in various forms, including quasi-incestuous themes and a sixteen-year-old female paired with an adult male. Violence and dismemberment are legally required in any BotI fic, so be prepared. Yes, we're getting closer to the real Samura-style mayhem now...
Historical note: American and British whaling ships began to round the Horn to exploit the South Pacific sperm whale fishery in the late 1700s. For whalers from New England ports like Nantucket and New Bedford, one voyage could take three or four years and run great risks. Castaway sailors who landed on Japanese soil were often imprisoned or executed as spies, since national isolation edicts forbade entry to foreigners other than a few tightly restricted Dutch and Chinese traders. Japanese who tried to leave the country or return from abroad were also subject to the death penalty.
Komo: “Red Hair”, an old Japanese term for the Dutch.
Bodhisattva: Buddhist saint.
Gaijin: Outsider, non-Japanese.
On my Livejournal now: Big glossary for the entire story, plus various historical and manga trivia. Will be expanding!
Abstinence Education
by Madame Manga
Part Thirty-Two
Crashing, scratching, clawing – branches slapped Rin in the face and whipped her arms and legs. She still couldn’t get a deep breath. Her chest hurt and her vision scattered. Her captors scrambled through the forest for some distance, then dove into the underbrush and crawled rapidly along the dank forest floor.
They took a zigzagging path around trees and the trunks of shrubs until Rin lost all sense of direction. Half dragging, half pushing her, thorns tearing at her hair and clothing. Even when she could focus, she could make out almost nothing in the weird greenish shadows. In her half-conscious state this was like a nightmare that wouldn’t end. Pain and darkness were the road, and at its destination –
After what seemed an eternity of torment, Rin wheezed and finally filled her lungs all the way. She gasped and breathed, awareness flooding her like cold water. Her first clear thought was of Manji.
Following? Where? How far had her captors taken her, and in what direction? Was Manji all right? Had someone reloaded that gun? She got out one shaky cry before a sweaty hand clamped over her lower face and cut off her voice.
She smelled rank body odor and heard heavy breathing. The bandits kept down, moving branches out of the way rather than breaking them and squirming along on their bellies like snakes. In a more open spot, they jumped to their feet and ran with her.
Her power of movement seemed to revive in the sunlight. Rin kicked and bit down on the hand that gagged her. The bandit’s flesh tasted salty and foul, but she kept her jaws together and tried to force the points of her teeth into his skin.
“Crap, girlie, knock that off!” He twisted his arm at the elbow and pressed the heel of his hand into her chin.
“Keep it shut, idiot!” the other hissed low.
“Ah, he’s lost the trail – ” Rin heard shouts somewhere off to the left and not very near. “There, see?”
“You better fucking hope he has, because if he catches up, you can take him first.” The bandit in the lead dropped Rin’s legs when they came to another thick wall of brush. “I’ll make way – you bring her along.”
Rin flailed and threw her head from side to side, still biting at the hand. “Man, you’re not the one she’s gnawin’ on – hey, there ain’t no call for that!” The bandit flinched and the taste of blood entered her mouth. Rin freed her head for a moment and shrieked again.
“Manji-san! Manji-san!” She heard an answering call just before the bandit stuffed the end of his scarf into her mouth and clamped his hand over her face again.
Again they crawled under the bushes, the lead man’s tall, broad body forcing a tunnel through which the other could drag her. Rin squeezed her eyes shut to protect them, though her captor seemed to be trying to shield her head and deflect the stabbing twigs from her face. Over the two men’s panting and her own pounding heartbeat, she detected a call again, much nearer now.
“Goddammit – Rin!” A blade whined through the air and ripped the brush; Manji was hacking a shortcut towards her. “Sing out, dammit!”
The dirty scarf stuck to her tongue and made her choke; she couldn’t get out a sound, but she dragged her feet and clutched at branches. Struggling, she impeded the bandits’ progress as much as she could. They cursed and pulled at her. She managed to slow them down, but her strength was giving out – she couldn’t keep this up long. Something tore off her bun cover and let her braids spill free.
Behind them and rapidly closing the distance, Manji crashed down the undergrowth with his blade chopping him a path. Rin heard him grunting as he swung. He wasn’t far behind them now.
“Aw, shit – we ain’t gonna make it!” said her captor.
“Nope, we ain’t.” They broke through into another open area, wide and grassy but shadowed by tall trees. “Gimme her and draw!”
The lead man grabbed Rin and half carried her to a stand of thick-trunked oaks. The gag fell from her mouth and she tried to moisten her dry throat.
The bandit pushed her against a tree and yanked a length of thick cord from around his waist. Rin gained her voice and screamed, but he made no move to silence her now. Instead he pulled her hands in front of her, looped the cord around her wrists and swiftly knotted it. The other end of the cord he used to lash her to the tree, taking a few quick turns over her arms and torso. His hands moved in a blur, but he secured her bonds without making them cruelly tight. Something about his face struck her oddly, but she had no time to register what it was.
The second man drew two swords, faced around and moved back across the clearing. Manji burst from the bushes with the swing of a shido. Locks of loosened hair fell over his face and his clothes had been yanked askew in every direction. Shredded leaves flew as he drew his katana and charged with a yell.
A few strides into the clearing, he met the bandit. Manji’s weapons crashed into his opponent's crossed swords with an air-shocking impact. The man took two backward steps and whipped out with a kick to Manji’s knee. Manji took the shot and staggered, but didn’t fall; he recovered his balance and pressed the attack again with fierce blows. The bandit parried and sidestepped.
The lead man pulled out a chain that hung around his neck and blew a couple of piercing blasts on a brass whistle. Rin paid little attention to him, her eyes fixed on the duel.
The two men circled and made sudden sideways lunges, the bandit always heading Manji away from Rin. Manji’s chest heaved with deep pants and his expression looked wild. He seemed to fight on instinct, swinging with furious strength and not much finesse. His face was distorted almost to unrecognizability, but to Rin he was the most wonderful sight in the world. He was defending her – he had run to her rescue without a thought – everything was all right again!
His stringy, agile opponent moved in a sinuous flicker, dodging Manji’s lashing blades, then darting closer in another attempt to trip him. Under his skimpy clothing, the bandit’s arms and back were covered with a tattooed design of flames and giant snakes. The pictures rippled over his muscles, giving an eerie impression of life.
“Hebi-kun!” The leader opened his jacket and pulled a sheaf of folded lines from his belt. “Stand off! I’m ready.”
The tattooed man began to reply, then hissed in pain. The tip of Manji’s long sword had scored his shoulder; blood streamed from a half-circle cut and spiraled down his arm. He deflected another slash and scrambled away.
“Shit, dude, chill out!” he protested. “We ain’t here to – ”
“Shut it, dipshit!” The leader stepped away from the bound Rin and circled to the left. “Now get outta my way!”
He raised one hand, the lines dangling from it, and Rin noticed that small round weights were knotted into the ends. Hebi skipped aside. Now the bandits flanked Rin; Manji had an opening. He dashed straight for her.
The leader spun his arm and let the lines and weights fly. Rin wondered what he could be doing – that thing wasn’t any sort of weapon, was it? Then the whirling tangle intercepted Manji at the knees; the weights whipped around and around of their own momentum and tightened the lines.
Manji crashed headfirst into the ground, his legs trussed from hips to ankles. Sword and shido flew from his grip and bounced out of his reach. He skidded a little way on his face and lay limp and groaning, obviously stunned.
In an instant the big leader was on him. Rin screamed when he knelt on Manji’s shoulders and reached into his jacket again. Was he going to draw a knife and slash his throat? But the man took out yet another cord and pulled Manji’s right arm behind him.
Manji’s hooked knife appeared in his left hand. He twisted, partly dislodging the bandit, and stabbed backwards. The straight point of the knife dug into the bandit’s thigh, ripping his leggings and scoring his hairy flesh.
Manji yanked the blade free and sliced upwards. The bandit dropped the cord and rolled off him. The strike missed, but Manji flipped himself over and sat upright. He slashed at the lines binding his legs and kicked free.
“Damn it!” The leader stumbled and clutched his bloodied leg.
His long braid fell over his shoulder when he bent forward. Rin suddenly noticed that his hair was strangely light-colored and curled at the ends. He looked up at her when she gasped, and the sight of his pale round eyes and long freckled nose struck her with horror. She shrieked. He wasn’t Japanese nor even an Ezo tribesman – he was –
“What in the fuck... are you?” Manji sounded almost as taken aback as Rin. He spat out some grass, pulled his other shido from his kosode and heaved to his feet.
“Oh, Manji-san!” Rin trembled and stared. “Is that really a foreigner?”
“Ho-lee shit.” Manji wiped blood and dirt from his mouth and nose with the back of his wrist. He examined the man with astonished curiosity, cocking his head from side to side. “Komo, right? Damn, their hair really IS red!”
The bandit grinned, showing several missing teeth in the midst of his scraggly copper-colored beard. He took a dirty rag from his jacket and bound it over his wound. “Naw... I’m no Dutchman. I’m from – ” He slurred a long word that sounded something like ‘Masa-shu-setsu’.
“Haah?” Manji broke eye contact and cast a quick glance at Hebi. The tattooed bandit now guarded Rin, but made no move to attack. “Where the hell’s that?”
“Long way from here.”
“Must be.” Manji’s brows creased; he took another look at Hebi’s intricate tattoos and narrowed his eye at the foreigner. His unthinking rage had expended itself, replaced by wariness. “Now how the hell did a barbarian learn to talk Nihongo?”
“I’ve been rottin’ here four years, big guy. An’ some old shipmates of mine were castaway Jappos. Couldn’t go home again, or...” He drew a thumb across his throat and made a slicing sound. “That’s how the bakufu bastards served the rest of my crew, anyway.”
“Yeah? Why ain’t anybody cut your ugly head off?”
The foreigner reached over his shoulder and drew a long weapon from a sheath strapped down his back. Crude black iron, with a strong shaft and a wicked barbed head the size of a man’s hand. He hefted it and displayed it to Manji with an air of pride. “That’s why.”
“No shit.” Manji eyed the honed point. “You can hit something with that?”
“I was chief harpooneer on a whaler out of Nu-beda-fo.” Rin couldn’t parse that name either – he might as well have said he was from the moon. “Three years’ worth of oil in the hold, and we split our hull in a typhoon off the Bonins and washed up in this godforsaken head-chopping, pickle-eating, floor-squatting misbegotten yellow heathen bunghole of a country.” He gave a formal bow. “Pleased to meet ya, samurai-san.”
Manji laughed. Not at the foreigner’s oddly accented sarcasm, which made Rin boggle, but apparently at a thought of his own. It wasn’t a merry thought; she was reminded of how he had laughed when Makie asked him what he had stolen from an innocent girl.
To Rin’s surprise, Manji turned and looked straight at her, showing his teeth. He seemed both dangerously angry and oddly amused. At himself?
“Yeah, woman, I’m a sucker. You know that better than anybody. But you ain’t screwin’ me twice in one day!”
“Manji-san?”
“Thi s pair of jokers is supposed to take me down?” Manji made a wide gesture with his shido. “Guess again.”
“Guess... what?”
“You really think I’m that soft in the head?” His voice rose to a roar. “Itto-ryu!”
Rin’s mouth dropped open.
“Come on, look at ‘em! Who else but that bunch of freakjobs is gonna hang out with a blue-eyed devil?”
He was right. He had to be right. Rin’s head spun and her vision blurred. Anotsu? Why?
“This all got arranged yesterday at the inn. Bait the hook and pull in a big fat – ”
“Manji!”
“I ain’t playin’ yer little game any more.” He pointed the knife at her. “Gimme one reason I shouldn’t walk right out of here!”
Rin spluttered and stamped her feet. “You... you... That’s so stupid! You're such an idiot!”
“Damn straight I am!” Manji laughed again. “If I hadn’t left my fool head jammed so far up between your legs, I’d’ve figured the real deal the second these two clowns pranced over the hill!”
The bandits looked at each other. The foreigner raised a brow; Hebi gave a clueless shrug. Manji whipped around to glare at them. “Just one thing I want to know. When does Anotsu show up to fetch her?”
“Uh...it’s really not like – ” began Hebi.
“Keep it shut, idiot!” His companion snarled at him.
“Itto-ryu. So... you know me, don’t you?” Manji pointed at his own face.
The foreigner’s long nose twitched, then he shrugged as if Manji’s deduction made no difference. “Heard some rumors.”
“Do tell.”
“Some kind of bullshit about immortality.” He sneered and propped his harpoon on his shoulder. “I ain’t no superstitious Jappo.”
“Yeah... bullshit.” Manji grinned with a glint in his eye. “Man, I always wonder how that one got started.”
“But Mado, this guy picked up his own arm and stuck it back on! You gotta ask Magatsu – ” Hebi flinched when his companion shook his weapon at him.
“I swear, you babble like a tipsy whore! So he was too tough for a few of the Toshu‘s best buds? I ain’t real worried.”
“Then let’s go for it, gaijin.” Manji stalked forward. “I’d hate to have Anotsu think I’d lost my touch!”
“Hey, hey!” Mado raised the black harpoon. “Look, Manji, you got this all wrong.”
“No kiddin’?”
“Just for one, I ain’t even really a member... well, I resigned when we were gonna go legit. I kept in touch, that’s all.”
“Yeah? What about Snakeboy here?” Manji nodded at Hebi.
“Well, he’s in good standing, but see, this ain’t a job we’re doin’ for the Toshu. It was never his deal at all.”
“Hanh?”
“I’m tellin’ you, this ain’t Itto-ryu business!” Mado sounded guileless and matter-of-fact. “We’re working for another guy – we hired on as freelance.”
“Whatta coincidence, then.” Manji spat on the ground again, obviously not believing a word. “Doesn’t matter anyhow, ‘cause I’m feeling pissed enough to butcher a whole army of barbarians toting fish-skewers. Come and get it, ugly!”
“Honest, man, I ain’t shittin’ you. We got to make a living like anybody else, right?” Mado’s head turned at a sound from the forest. “Here they come. Crap, took you long enough!”
“Bullshit. You were running out on us, you stinking gaijin!” A coarse voice answered him from the trees, and the speaker came striding into the clearing. He exactly resembled Rin’s idea of a bandit; he was paunchy and pock-marked, with an oily mustache and flashy, food-stained clothing. At his side swung a single short sword. A pimpled, shifty-eyed boy of about fifteen slunk along behind him, similarly dressed.
“Don’t even talk to me, asshole. I can smell your breath from here.”
“Fuck you!”
“Both of you talk like you were shoveling a dungheap,” said another voice. A hollow-cheeked ronin dressed in threadbare household livery with the family crests removed emerged from the forest right behind the paunchy man and the boy. He gave Rin a covert look. “There is a young woman present.”
None of the new arrivals looked anything like Itto-ryu fighters. Manji grimaced and scanned the men who faced him; he seemed less sure of himself than he had been a few moments before, though that could have been because the odds had just more than doubled against him.
Another sound made Rin start; a louder crashing in the undergrowth. It heralded the approach of a creature much larger than a man. Manji turned his head. Rin heard the jingle of a bridle and a whoosh of breath through a horse’s nostrils.
These men would have had to travel fast to set up their ambush. With a good start, a healthy man on foot could have beaten his quarry to this spot. But a weakened man still recovering from a wound?
Rin squeezed her eyes shut and turned her face to her shoulder, knowing to the pit of her roiling stomach who must be riding that horse. She would never have thought him capable of this crude and thuggish attack. Though he haunted her nightmares and ruined her peace of mind, how could he have stooped to kidnapping her? She could think of only one reason why, and acid rose in her throat. She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t meet those cool narrow eyes. Not in front of Manji!
“The... fuck?” muttered Manji. Rin’s lids snapped up.
A figure walked from the shadows under the trees. It seemed to be a man, but built oddly wide and square. When he emerged into the sunlight, his sharp, bright-colored angles suddenly leaped into clarity. Rin stared in disbelief. A samurai, in full antique armor!
He might have been costumed to play a legendary hero on the stage, in an elaborately decorated and silk-laced o-yoroi topped with a brocade coat. His old-fashioned rivet-studded helmet carried an enormous spreading neck guard and gilded horns. To complete the faintly ridiculous picture, suspended at his side he wore a tachi cavalry sword about as long as Rin was tall.
Right behind him ambled the horse he led. A slight figure sat astride the saddle. He was dressed like a young nobleman, his expensive clothing looking like it belonged to an elder brother. He seemed to be unarmed; he rode awkwardly in his oversized hakama, gripping the pommel with his head down and his face concealed by a wide basket hat. He looked more frightened than dangerous.
But the samurai? If he knew how to use that tachi, Manji was now outnumbered six to one. Manji retreated a few steps to reduce his exposure from behind, his head turning quickly from side to side like a hawk’s.
Quivering in fear, Rin tried to catch his eye. He shifted his grip on his shido and didn’t return her look. Instead he fixed his gaze on the armored samurai with an incredulous frown.
The big boxy figure tied the horse to a tree at the edge of the forest and briefly spoke to the young rider. Then he faced Manji and swaggered forward, his thigh guards flapping with his strides. The lower half of his face was hidden by an iron mask and its bristling horsehair mustache. Only his eyes and brows were visible. He put his arms akimbo with a dramatic swoop of his huge shoulder shields and seemed to be about to make a declaration.
Before the samurai could speak a word, Manji began to laugh again. Not in the grim way that made Rin shiver, but with genuine amusement. The laugh rapidly grew to a belly-shaking guffaw. Rin looked at Manji in surprise when he bent over and slapped his thigh, wheezing. He gave a loud whoop and grinned at her.
“Know him yet, Rin?” She looked blank, and he pointed. “He’s got a good reason to wear that stupid mask!”
Her eyes opened wide.
“Smart idea recruiting all these cheap goons, you little twerp.” He turned back to the samurai, still laughing. “Because maybe... if you run fast enough... I’ll have to waste enough time gutting them for you to save your own ass. Take my advice – dump the clown suit before you split!”
The gilded horns quivered with the samurai’s wrath. He raised a fist and shook it at Manji. “You’ll regret those words, miscreant!” His muffled voice reverberated from the mouth-slot of the mask. “I shall make you suffer great humiliations for your crimes!”
“You know what, dickwad? Thanks for showing up just now. I mean that sincerely, because I was kinda losin’ sight of what I ought to have been doing. Got a little sidetracked.” He pointed his hooked knife straight at the samurai’s face. “Take off that mask or I rip it off. Along with the rest of your face. I want to see how much it hurts when I slice open your soft little belly.”
The samurai fumbled with the fancy double knot tied under the iron mask’s projecting chin. “I am not afraid to face you, scum! You shall know my vengeance is swift and sure!” Unable to negotiate the knot with gloves on, he took a manicure knife from his scabbard and pried at the thick cord to loosen it.
“Hey, take your time.” Manji chuckled. “This is gonna be over way too quickly for my taste anyhow.”
The man tore off the mask and helmet together and threw them on the ground. Red-faced, panting, with a large bandage on his nose and his topknot draggling stray hairs over his shaven pate. His head looked very small projecting from the wide shoulders of the armor.
“I am Tsukue Ryonosuke! You will not speak to me in that – ”
“I know who you are, you little dipshit. You know who I am?”
“Indeed I do! You are not only a crude and barbarous misfit, you are a notorious outlaw! I will take you to Edo in bonds and win great acclaim for your ignominious defeat! Even my father will – ”
“Missin’ Daddy’s money that bad already?” Manji rolled his eye. “I ain’t defeated yet, ‘case you hadn't noticed.”
“Ah, but your little sister is in my power!” Ryonosuke swept an arm to point at Rin. “Every man has his weakness, and I have captured yours!”
“Weakness?” Manji’s glance met Rin’s. Cool, impenetrable, but with a faint smile. “What, now I piss myself and surrender?”
“Well – um... ”
“Fine, little Ryo, you got my attention now.” Manji made a flippant gesture. “You don’t need her any more, so I’ll just cut her loose and you and me can take care of business.” He began to walk towards Rin; the paunchy man and the ronin barred his way with hands gripping their sword hilts. “Move aside, greaseball, or – ”
“You ain't forgetting, are you?” The paunchy man addressed Ryonosuke. “No pay, no deal!”
“Of course... of course! I will make good on all my promises.”
“Assuming you’re alive to settle accounts.” Manji smirked at Ryonosuke. “How many coppers did you have to drop in the taverns to scrounge up this attractive bunch?”
“This is not a cash arrangement,” said the threadbare ronin with an air of affronted rectitude. “It would be beneath my dignity as a samurai to accept – ”
“We get the girl, asshole,” said the paunchy man. He flashed yellow-stained teeth. “This fine young fella here couldn’t show us any gold for our trouble, but he did drop a few enticin’ remarks about your feisty little sister. Couldn’t pass that up – I gotta admit, I never mind takin’ it out in trade.”
Manji looked as still as a rooted oak. Rin thrashed against her bonds; her breath seemed to turn to ice in her lungs.
“She looks somewhat more mature than I had anticipated.” The ronin gave a philosophical sigh and shake of the head. “However, I am resigned to the blows of fate.”
The paunchy man cuffed the pimpled boy on the side of the head. “Gotta make this little shit into a man someday, hah? Tell you what, kid – draw some blood in the fight, and you get second dibs.”
“They have pledged to preserve her life – ” began Ryonosuke, almost apologetically.
“Do you know who I am?” Manji’s tone had lost all sense of humor.
Rin felt a sizzle down her spine. The ronin and the paunchy man each took a step backwards. Even the Itto-ryu men flinched. The boy seemed confused.
Ryonosuke gulped. “Y-yes, I know – ”
“No. You don’t.” Manji cast a look at Rin, too quickly for her to read his face, and turned back to Ryonosuke. “That girl there? You callin’ me her big brother?”
“You are her brother!”
“You ain’t got a clue, you snot-dribblin’ brat. For all you know, she sleeps in my futon and last night I nailed her until she screamed my name!”
“Your own... sister?” Ryonosuke’s mouth gaped open and shut like a fish’s.
“Idiot.” Manji dismissed him and spun around to include the whole circle of armed men. “Before you monkeys decide to draw in this fight, get one thing straight – no man on earth’s gonna even think about putting a finger on that little woman.” He showed his teeth. “Except me.”
The Itto-ryu men stared at him in open consternation.
“Whoa there,” said the paunchy man, looking slightly ill. “I mean, god knows I’m no bodhisattva myself, but bro, that’s really gross.”
Ryonosuke stammered. “You d-despicable felon! You f-foul, depraved animal!”
“Animal, hey? I’m as human as any of you bastards. Which I admit ain’t saying a whole hell of a lot... ” Manji took a deep breath and dropped the knife and shido to stick upright in the ground. With a sweep of his arm he sent three additional blades to join them, their points driving deep into the soft earth. He made one more rapid draw and shook out the chain from his linked sickles. “So who am I?”
The bandit pulled out his short sword; the ronin loosened his katana in its scabbard. Manji looked up and grinned.
“Yeah, I’m that guy who killed a hundred officers singlehanded. Not to mention, I'm also the softest-headed idiot ever born... because I thought no woman could sucker me. Even that little gal over there – the one with the braids and the big brown eyes.” He swung one sickle in an arc and began to spin it over his head, fast and faster. “Makes no difference now – never should have. You want to know who I really am?”
None of the bandits made a sound.
“I got a message for you jokers. Tell those one hundred hungry ghosts… plus a few dozen extra… who are gonna welcome you to hell with open arms – ”
Blade whirring high and a fence of steel before him: for a moment Manji seemed to loom like a tree in a forest of saplings. He smiled.
“Tell them for me... that I’m her fucking bodyguard.”
Continued...