Muramasa: Blood Drinker, an Author's Reflection

Yoshitoshi, c. 1866

At long last, the writing and subsequent digital publishing of my “little” samurai novel is complete. The first words were typed while I was on a break from teaching a special education class in El Segundo, California, and the final words were written in an uncomfortable high chair in a Starbucks that was attached to Marriot in Sacremento, California. That is somewhat symbolic for me, as there were as many words written away from home as at home; my life has been in a state of upheaval for some time, but I still got the work done.

 Muramasa was definitely the most challenging work I have completed thus far, and not just because I was away from home so much. Unlike my earlier true fantasy novels, Muramasa was historical fiction of sorts, and that required hours of research. I made a lot of decisions and took a lot of new paths with this book, with some panning out and some being less successful. Overall, I count it a success. This is because I:

1. Finished a book. This is always a big deal.

2. Devised a means of achieving my vision of monetized content that is free to end users. I even made a small amount of money from the serialization.

3. Expanded my writing, research, and web coding skills because of necessity.

4. Got myself motivated to build a new, better website that will deliver my vision with more efficiency and with better aesthetics.

Blood Drinker: Chapter 10-1

At last we reach the third act of my mystical Japanese drama. Amaya and Yoshio have reached Osaka and seen the killer Ryunosuke at work there, though his whereabouts and motives still remain shrouded in mystery. Note: I realized that I used the name "Shiro" twice in the total narrative. I have changed the name of the second Shiro (the nephew of Daiki) to Shigeo. This edit has not been done on previous installments as of yet.

Previous installments can be found on the fiction page above or by clicking here. Thanks, as always, for reading. Don't forget to share if you liked it, and return on Thursday for the second half of chapter 10.

<<Previous: Chapter 9-2

Act III

Chapter 10

“How do you like your new clothes, Yoshi?” Amaya smiled at her retainer, who fussed with the knot on his obi by the window.

“A little oversized,” Yoshio said. He straightened the light mantle on his shoulders, which gave his lean body a long taper. “Which is in many ways good. It allows freedom of movement, and these leggings will obscure my foot movements for an opponent.” Yoshio tugged at the loose blue umanori[1] pants, which hung in stiff pleats to the tops of his feet. “However, this outfit will give an enemy more ways to grab and throw me, and I risk getting it caught on some piece of the décor should I be forced to draw my sword indoors.”

Amaya laughed as she walked over to the window and ran her hands over the cloth on Yoshio’s shoulders. “Ever thinking of utility. That is my Yoshi.”

“What else should I think of?”

“Do you like the way it looks?” Amaya said, opening her arms and displaying the long, hanging sleeves of her two-cloth kimono. The pure white silk shimmered in the sunlight from the window, and the pink pattern of the obi and the inner folds of the kimono stood out brightly. Her wide obi was snug, making her already small waist seem tiny.

“I like the way yours looks,” Yoshio said.

Amaya laughed again. “What about yours?”

Yoshio looked down. “I suppose it will do.”

“What about comfort?” Amaya said.

“I said it was loose.” Yoshio tugged on a sleeve. “See?”

“Yes, but does that mean comfortable?” Amaya walked back to the futon and tucked her katana away behind pillows and blankets.

“What else would it mean?”

“My dear Yoshi,” Amaya said, looking back to Yoshio as she tucked her tanto away in the folds of her white and pink kimono. “I will never tire of you.”

Yoshio frowned. “What does that mean?”

Amaya gave him a subtle smile, then sighed. “Let’s go. I do not want to make this worse than it already will be by being late.”

Yoshio nodded. He walked to Amaya’s low table and picked up the scroll he had found at their door upon returning in the early morning. He un-rolled it and looked at it again. It was written in beautiful black script, with flowing lines and perfect brush strokes.

“What is it?” Amaya said, standing by the door.

“I just didn’t get a good look at Masaki’s note when we arrived.”

“What do you see now, in the daylight?”

“It is professionally scripted,” Yoshio said.

“Many nobles are taught well in the arts,” Amaya said, moving to look at the scroll herself. She traced her finger along the well- painted and perfectly black strokes. “But you are right.”

“He means to impress you,” Yoshio said, frowning.

“He does,” Amaya said, “but he has already impressed upon me his cruelty and stubbornness. Tea and entertainment will do no more to lighten my opinion of him than inviting us to such with pretty letters. You worry about me often, Yoshi. You do not need to worry about me being wooed by the likes of Shiba Masaki.”

“I just wanted to make sure you were aware of his intentions.”

“I am. And yours.”

Blood Drinker: Chapter 6-1

Here is chapter 6, where we find Yoshio and Amaya moving toward Osaka. As always, previous installments are linked before the beginning of the text proper.

Teaser

Chapter 1-1

Chapter 1-2

Chapter 2-1

Chapter 2-2

Chapter 3-1

Chapter 3-2

Chapter 4-1

Chapter 4-2

Chapter 5-1

Chapter 5-2

Chapter 6

The sun beat down on the still-damp fields to either side of the raised road that split them. Peasants busied themselves with the harvest of the first round of rice, their bare feet collecting mud so that they looked like swallow nests below their calves as they stepped up and down. Their hats, large and conical much like the basket hat that Yoshio wore as he walked, bobbed up and down as they picked new stalks and threshed them. Amaya walked beside him, letting the horse follow by his lead a short distance behind them. A grove of trees interrupted their steady march as much by the sound of cicadas that nestled in them as the relief of shade they offered.

Amaya pulled the horse over to a shallow but clear pool in a rocky basin beside the grove, a left-over from the draining of the rice fields, and let the beast drink. He obliged contentedly, though the tense swishing of his tail at the pestering insects continued. Yoshio knelt down and dipped his hands into the water, then splashed his face.

“You’ve been quiet today, Yoshi,” Amaya said.

Yoshio turned to see Amaya sitting on a low-hanging branch of  a maple. Her head was slightly tilted. “I apologize,” he said. “I’ve had a great deal to think about.”

“Like what?”

“Osaka.”

“It’s a city, Yoshi. You’ve been in those before, haven’t you?”

“Yes, but it makes it so much harder to predict him. I missed what might be my only chance to catch Ryunosuke because of short-sightedness. More may be killed.”

Amaya nodded. “So you have given me the first answer.”

Yoshio sighed and stood up, letting the cool water drip off of his face. “Some of the things you said to me last night. They were not like you.”

“That is where you are wrong,” Amaya said. “They are precisely like me.”

“Then you have many sides, Amaya,” Yoshio said.

“And you will know them all, my dear…” she smiled sweetly and looked away for a moment. “Friend.”

“I’m not sure if I liked it,” Yoshio said. “In fact, it disturbed me.”

“Thank you for your honesty. I would not usually show that side off, but if you wish to know someone, you must offer up a piece of yourself in exchange.”

“Know who?” Yoshio said.

“You, silly.” Amaya hopped off the tree limp and walked to the horse. “People get to know each other by self-revelation. First you reveal something about yourself, then your companion feels obligated to offer up the same. You told me a great deal about yourself last night.”