Chapter 6: The Bayasaka of the Time

"You're going to need to specify—I've killed lots of people."

I raised my hands lazily and placed a wide grin on my face. My primary goal was to display confidence, but pissing off one of Hizen's dogs was a bonus I never passed up. Gill-sama...the honorific of -sama was reserved for highly respected, god-like entities. While I've been in the assassin business for a while, this would be the first time I killed someone bearing such a title. Or should I say something, as the half-eaten giant fish comes to mind.

If assassinations were always this tasty I wouldn't have quit that line of work.

"You scum! My father's father, the great Yusuke Morita dwelled within that ancestral koi! I'll kill you for this dishonor!" Veins burst out from his overly-generous forehead. He unsheathed his katana and raised it into the ready position.

I glanced over at my partner in crime. Masami was digging around in that knapsack of hers, but unless she had a shinobi smoke bomb in there we were out of luck.

I slowed my breathing and took a moment to analyze the situation. Thinking in the midst of battle could get you killed, but not thinking before a battle began—that was suicide. Five sasumata-wielders blocked the only exit out of this luxury suite, an oversight the architect didn't account for. An enraged samurai father stood in fighting stance beside a sobbing little girl.

Behind me was a table with my katana and roughly ten pounds of stale fish. To my right was an undersized shugenja with two slips of paper in her hands and something to say.

"Akio, press this protective talisman against your brow." Masami thrust a strip of parchment into my hands, which looked to be covered with strange letters I had no hope at understanding. When I thought of talismans I thought of expensive jewels and ornate medallions, not scribbles on the back of a hot springs brochure.

Did I follow the kid's advice or did I do things my way?

I Glanced at her and then thought to myself ' I got us into this mess, I'm gonna get us out of it!'

"This is my responsibility." I rarely admit mistakes, but Gill-sama's death laid heavy on my conscience. Or should I say in my stomach? Either way, I didn't want to rely on Masami to get us out of this. I already had a plan in mind, though to be honest it was more of a gambit of questionable morality. My specialty.

To my dismay the kid decided now to be a great time for a temper tantrum. "Why must you always be opposed to my ideas?! What wrong have I inflicted onto you to treat me like a child?" A distinct display of dislike arose from Masami's features. I guess you could call it strong dislike, considering that she shook visibly.

"I know you're not a child—you're a distraction." A distraction that gave me enough time to make a break for my weapon. I could feel the sudden jerk of sandals against tatami mats behind me; my opponent would take this opportunity to close distance. I had two options on the table.

Perhaps the most difficult decision I've had to make.

I thought for a while but I came to a realization, what the hell am I thinking of course I am gonna used the sword! I pulled it out and turned around in a single, swift motion. It would have parried the samurai's strike cleanly if he had attacked when he should've. But he didn't. I had made the mistake of overestimating his speed, and it nearly cost me dearly.

It's safer to overestimate than underestimate your opponent in a fight, but it was a mistake all the same. I rectified it with the sheath in my off-hand, that I swung across and crackled against his exposed midsection. I heard the sound of ribs breaking, and the staggering breaths he took afterwards all but confirmed it.

But now wasn't the time to gloat. I wouldn't have more than a second before his gang of glorified guardsmen decided to intervene in our one-sided duel. Desperation set in, and I felt trapped inside a cage I couldn't break out from. I needed to find the key or make one from scratch.

So I darted for the little girl in the pink kimono, who had made the mistake of separating herself from the safety and reach of the sasumata wielders.

I pressed my katana against her neck, and wrapped my other arm around her sash to keep her from running. It was more for her safety than anything else—kids aren't always smart enough to hold still when a razor is pressed against them.

With an ear-deafening scream, this girl had managed to do more damage to me than her samurai daddy ever could. I grimaced from the discomfort but managed to pull off a crazed smile all the same.

"What's it going to be, samurai? Wouldn't want your little girl here to end up like your stupid fish, do you?" I got blank expressions mixed with various amounts of shock and fear from everyone in the room. This included Masami, who probably didn't realize I was capable of something like this.

"Learn something new every day, don't you kid?"

My primary combatant's face warped from a swordsman's rage to that of a father's fear. I could see him trying to rekindle that anger inside of him, but his katana was already facing down.

He had given up fighting at this level years ago.

"Hold! I yield, just...just leave my daughter alone. I beg you." The defeated man returned his blade into its scabbard, and bowed his head curtly. While gazing upon my feet he ordered his retinue to leave.

Masami broke out of her daze and walked over to my side, though with a look of anger and disapproval directed solely at me. I knew why she was upset, but that wouldn't stop me from being an effective bodyguard.

She spat out these words with as much elegant distaste as she could muster. "Relinquish this innocent girl, you barbaric ruffian. Let's depart before you muster any more harm."

The thought passed my mind, but only for a moment. The power I had with my katana at the nape of this young one's neck—I knew it all too well. No honest assassin would ever tell you otherwise. That thrill, that surge of power over another human being. It was euphoric.

And addictive. But that wasn't who I am anymore, so I let the girl go. Masami and I made a quit exit; I was half-surprised those retainers didn't try to jump us on our way out. Perhaps I was even scarier than I thought.