Shadow of The Fox (Shadow of the Fox #1) - Julie Kagawa Page 0,64
began dabbing the blood from around the wound. Tatsumi slumped forward with his hands on his knees and his head bowed. He didn’t make a sound or twitch a muscle, even when I moved from the blood to the gash itself, wiping it clean before smearing the green salve into the wound as gently as I could. His muscles were tight, like steel bands under my fingertips, as if he expected me to jab something into the cut at any moment. Or, perhaps he was just bracing himself for the pain. I remembered what he’d said to me at the ryokan, his confusion when I’d protested his harsh treatment of my own wound. When he’d asked if I had never been punished for showing weakness.
When the wound was treated, I wrapped bandages around his chest and shoulder, wincing as I tied them off. “All right,” I said, drawing back. “I think that will do.”
“Arigatou,” he murmured after a moment’s hesitation, as if still waiting for the worst to come. I watched him pull up his shirt and haori and shrug into them without so much as a grimace, and wondered again at the scars across his back and shoulders. The witch had called him the Kage demonslayer. Why did he hunt and kill such dangerous creatures?
“Tatsumi,” I ventured, knowing the dangers of prodding this edgy, dangerous human but unable to help myself. “Have you...fought a lot of demons?”
“Yes.”
“Is it for vengeance?” I thought of the oni, casually massacring a temple of monks, leaving death and destruction in its wake, and my blood boiled. “Do you hunt them for revenge? Did a demon kill your family?”
“No.”
“Then, why...?”
“Yumeko.” His voice wasn’t harsh or angry or threatening, but the bleakness in it caused a shiver to creep up my spine. He turned so that he faced me on his knees, purple eyes intense.
After placing his sword on his left side, he fisted both hands on his thighs and bowed his head, as I knelt there in silent amazement.
“Forgive me.” His voice was solemn, completely serious, as if he were addressing a daimyo, not a lowly peasant girl. “You saved my life, but I cannot answer your questions. I have been sworn to secrecy by my clan, and they would punish us both if I disobeyed their orders. Please choose another way that I might repay my debt.”
“Tatsumi-san...” Guilt flickered; I certainly hadn’t been expecting that. “I...you don’t owe me anything,” I said, though he remained motionless with his gaze on the ground. “I was trying to save us both, after all.”
“The witch would have killed me.” Tatsumi’s voice was flat; he still hadn’t moved or raised his head. “The code of the Shadow Clan demands compensation. A life for a life. I’m in your debt until I can repay you.”
I nodded. “All right,” I said in a quiet voice, as the seriousness of the declaration dawned on me. Master Isao had taught me about the ways of the samurai, how their code was everything to them, their entire way of life. To casually dismiss or ignore a debt was a huge insult to their honor, an unforgivable crime that could end either in the death of the offender, or with the disgraced warrior taking his own life. “Then I’ll hold you to that promise, Tatsumi,” I said, “until you can save me in return.”
He lowered his head in a silent bow, and we continued through the gully without speaking.
* * *
Later that evening, after we’d finally gotten out of the ravine, it began to rain. I grimaced, setting my jaw as sheets of water soaked us through the branches, drenching my hair and seeping past my clothes. Tatsumi walked on, seemingly uncaring of the cold and wet. I found myself wishing for my conical hat and mino, a rain cloak made of tightly woven straw, which I’d had to leave behind at the temple.
The rain continued, sometimes slowing to a cold drizzle but never letting up completely. As the light began to fade, we took shelter beneath an old, arched stone bridge. A pair of oak trees grew close to the bridge, and several gnarled roots snaked along the ground beneath the arch. Perched on a root, I watched as Tatsumi dug a hole, filled it with branches and somehow lit a small fire. It crackled cheerfully and drove away some of the chill, and I groaned as the warmth hit my skin and began thawing my clammy fingers.