Kaze’s face flushed from anger. “You were always good at cruelty,” he replied. “It’s not something that most men would be proud of.”
“On the contrary. I have always been good at pleasure. At least at the things that give me pleasure. Do you know that I had both your Lady and her daughter? I was the first man to enjoy the Lady’s pleasures besides her husband, although I did let several of my officers indulge themselves with her after I was done. I also took the virginity of her daughter. I think she was six or seven at the time and raised an awful fuss until I beat her quite senseless. I can’t say which I enjoyed more, the mother or the daughter. They each had their special charms.”
Making a low cry from his gut, Kaze attacked Okubo, slashing furiously at him. Okubo easily parried Kaze’s blows with his long sword. Then, almost as if he was playing with Kaze, he stepped forward into a quick counterattack that drove Kaze back. Kaze parried the blows from the long sword. He was intent on pressing his attack to kill Okubo, but his anger confused his sword sense, making his parries seem mechanical and ponderously slow.
A bad block to one of Okubo’s cuts left a deep gash on his forearm, sending a tingling sensation up his arm that spelled a weakening of his use of the arm. For some reason, the skills of a lifetime seemed to desert him when he wanted them most.
“Ah, first blood,” Okubo said. “This is a Masamune blade. They’re forbidden by Ieyasu-sama, but I don’t know why. This one has a special thirst for blood, and seems to seek it every time I draw it. I intend to sate it today, feasting on your blood. You know, you’re not really as strong a swordsman as I remembered you. I think in the ten years since we met my skills have increased and yours have declined. In a way, giving me this limp was almost a blessing. It forced me to take up the daito.” He made a quick slash with the long sword, creating a vicious swoosh as the blade cut through the air at high speed. “With this blade I control twice the area that you can with your katana. It’s easy when I can keep a safe distance from you while still threatening you with my blade.”
Okubo illustrated his point by stepping forward to attack again. Kaze was driven back. Okubo laughed. “See! Your puny sword is no match for my daito.”
Kaze looked down and saw the blood dripping off his arm. He then looked at the long expanse of Okubo’s sword blade, twice as long as his own katana. The daito was gleaming dully and malevolently, even in the bright sunshine; truly a Masamune blade. Kaze’s own blade shone brightly and cleanly, but it was far from being close enough to deliver a cut, much less a mortal blow, to Okubo.
Until you defeat yourself, you cannot defeat others.
The words of Kaze’s Sensei came to him. It was true that Okubo’s long sword gave him superior reach, but, digging deep into his spirit, Kaze knew the reason he was being defeated was not because of superior weaponry. Kaze was being defeated because of a lack of character.
He was attacking Okubo with rage and hate in his heart; two emotions that inevitably destroy the man who holds them. He was letting his anger control his blade and he was letting his hatred control his ability to fight. The result was that he was not using his skills the way he was taught. He could use those skills as an instrument of rage and hatred, or he could use them as an instrument of justice.
For all the wrongs that Okubo had inflicted upon the Lady, the Lady’s child, Kaze, Kaze’s clan, his own clan, and numerous other victims, Okubo deserved the harsh hand of justice. Okubo was evil. Undoubtedly, the greatest evil embodied in a single man that Kaze had ever come across. But to destroy him, Kaze had to use his sense of righteousness and skills as a swordsman, instead of his rage and anger as one of Okubo’s victims.
He stepped back two or three paces, watching Okubo carefully, but lowering his sword to the aimed-at-the-knee position. He took a deep breath and slowly let it exhale, trying to vent the rage within his body with the escaping air. “I am the sword of righteousness. I am the blade of justice,” Kaze said in a low voice.
“What are you saying, fool?” Okubo asked, unable to hear Kaze’s words. “Don’t think that you’re going to escape. I’ve been waiting for this for a long time. For all the hours in the dojo that I trained, I motivated myself by always having your face before me. That’s why my skills with the long sword have grown so magnificently. I had a good motivator. My hatred for you. Now, by the gift of the Gods and the machinations of Ieyasu, I will finally be able to satisfy this hatred and kill you. I only pray that I don’t have to kill you all at once. That I can cut at you, just as I’ve damaged your arm, and slowly slice you into pieces, savoring each moment.
“I’m going to tell you something,” Okubo said. “I will have a great victory banquet that will celebrate the complete and final destruction of you, your clan, your Lord, your Lady, and all the people that I hate. Your head, pickled in salt, will be the centerpiece for that banquet. I’ll invite all my samurai, each in turn, to relieve themselves on your face, to show the contempt I have for you. And I won’t forget Ieyasu, either,” Okubo said with a small smile. “As my destruction of you and your clan has shown, I’m a patient man when I need to be. I will eventually take my revenge on Ieyasu. I had hoped to work with Ieyasu and improve my position. I’ll still do that. I’ll also wait for any opportunity to destroy Ieyasu and his entire household.”
Kaze was surprised that Okubo revealed so much of himself, but he realized that Okubo felt free to display his inner thoughts because he knew that only one of them would be alive at the end of the duel.
Kaze knew the same thing.
Unlike Okubo, however, Kaze felt no need to provoke or taunt. In fact, he was trying to do the opposite; to withdraw emotionally from the duel, to swallow his rage and achieve a state of non-mindedness, to defeat himself before he tried to defeat another. He realized that the more he wanted Okubo dead, the less likely it was that he would achieve his goal. The more he tried to control the bout, the less he was in control of himself.
Okubo stepped forward to attack once again. Kaze planted his feet, feeling the strength flow into him from the earth. Automatically, Kaze’s blade flew to the right position to block Okubo’s daito, the slim sliver of steel moving almost of its own accord, without Kaze having to consciously direct it.
When Kaze didn’t give ground, Okubo stepped back. He had a look of concern on his face, wondering what sudden change had occurred so that the techniques and tactics he had used successfully just moments before were now neutralized.
“I am the sword of righteousness. I am the blade of justice,” Kaze said to himself. Over and over like a mantra. The sword of righteousness and the blade of justice.
With his blade at the aimed-at-the-knee position, Kaze twisted his sword until the shiny surface caught the sun’s rays, bouncing a shaft of light upward and into Okubo’s face. Okubo blinked at the flash of light hitting his eyes, and Kaze stepped forward, putting himself inside the arc of Okubo’s blade. He was putting himself into the reach of death, but it was the only way to get close enough to deliver a cut at Okubo.
Okubo slashed downward at Kaze, intending to cleave him in two. With Okubo slightly off balance from the blinding light, Kaze was able to move to one side. He felt Okubo’s blade swing past his face and come close to his shoulder. The deadly edge of the blade slightly brushed the cloth of his kimono, and he actually felt the wind generated by the moving sword slide down his arm.
Once Kaze was safely inside the arc of Okubo’s blade, the long sword turned from an asset into a liability. Although it had greater reach, it was not as nimble as a standard katana. Without Kaze’s thinking, without his planning the blow, his blade came across horizontally and transversely sliced Okubo’s stomach, just like the cut made during seppuku. Okubo gave a cry of pain and looked down to see his entrails bursting forth from the wound. He gave a moan and reached out with one hand to hold his guts in.