The Drifter and the Samurai

By George B. Todorov

A deft blend of action and adventure, mysticism and philosophy, The Drifter and the Samurai tells a provocative tale of one man's difficult journey from violence to enlightenment.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Apr 10, 2014
• ISBN: 9780615995243

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

THE KILLING

Slowly, absorbed in deep thought, Master Ischuru Yakimoto, one of the greatest warriors and Samurais of Japan, was taking his evening walk down the small street toward the town’s inn. By this time of day, the inn was usually full of people, some looking for a place to sleep, others for some action. Master Yakimoto was looking for neither. His thoughts were hundreds of miles away, in the small village, where he had just received the news that his father had died. He had a deep love and admiration for his father, who in his younger days was also one of the greatest Samurais Japan has ever known. Now he was gone. Sadness came into Master Yakimoto’s heart as he realized how temporary everything in this world was and how death was the superior master of all life.

As he came closer to the inn, the noise from inside started to disrupt his thoughts. He was ready to turn back when a terror-filled scream pierced the evening air. It was coming from the inn and in a few seconds, Master Yakimoto covered the distance, stopping at the open door. There, under the lights, he looked magnificent. Slightly above average height, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, Master Yakimoto looked like a small giant. His dark eyes and square face showed a man with a strong will power and determination. He was dressed in a traditional Samurai uniform, gray and black in color, with a black sash tied around his waist. On his left side, hung a long samurai sword and on his right, another shorter one that stuck out from under his sash.

Suddenly, his face tightened. He was too late. His eyes were fixed on the floor where the headless body of a partially naked beautiful woman was lying in a pool of blood, still convulsing. A few feet away was her head with her eyes still open and filled with horror.

Slowly, Master Yakimoto moved his eyes around, covering the whole room. The inn was full of people. They were sitting silently on their benches, horrified by the gruesome killing they had just witnessed. At the end of the room, he counted seven men and they were laughing loudly and pointing at the body of the dead woman. They were dressed in military uniforms and by their size and color he guessed they had to be members of the Imperial Guard, which were the most fearless and best trained warriors in Japan.

Who did this?

The harsh voice of the Samurai startled the seven men and they immediately stopped laughing, and turned their heads toward the direction of the door. They were surprised by Master Yakimoto’s courage and the power that resonated in his voice.

Curious and amused, a tall skinny man from the middle of the group slowly approached him. He appeared to be in his early twenties, richly dressed with a long knife sticking out from under his belt. His hair was black and long, tied up in a pony tail that fell down to the middle of his back. He had a narrow, pale face with the look of a sick man and his eyes were small and penetrating, like a snake who was ready to strike.

Who did this, huh?

The skinny man stopped a few feet from the Samurai. By the way he walked and the smell of his breath, Master Yakimoto could see he was drunk.

So, you want to know who did this. Huh, Samurai....and what is it to you?

The skinny man was looking straight into Master Yakimoto’s eyes, with the confidence and courage of a drunken man. The rest of the men came out of the corner and took their place next to the skinny man, who seemed to be their leader.

I asked you a question, Samurai. What is it to you? Do you like her? Or maybe you want to have your way with her. Go ahead. She is still warm.

The guards roared out in laughter, amused by the cleverness of their leader and the blood rushed into Master Yamkimoto's head. The arrogance of this man brought a feeling to him he thought he had lost forever - the feeling of hatred and the desire to kill.

Mister!

Master Yakimoto was staring straight in the eyes of the drunken man.

I don’t know who you are or what you are doing here, but if you are the one who killed this woman, I want to know why!

Listen, Samurai. If I did or didn’t is none of your business. So I suggest you mind your own business or you will join her very quickly.

You still haven’t answered my question. Did you kill this woman?

And if I did, what are you going to do about it? The skinny man gave a seething, challenging glare.

The Samurai was trying to stay calm and evaluate the situation. It had been a long time since his last fight. He practiced every day, but he had seven well trained men in front of him, and seven against one were not very good odds.

If you have mister, then you must surrender and come with me to the police.

The skinny man was surprised at the Samurai’s blatant disgrace and he couldn’t believe in his demand. This man, this crazy Samurai, was telling him, the nephew of the Emperor, to surrender and go to the police because of the killing of a whore?

With a lion-like roar and amazing speed the skinny man pulled out his knife and lunged straight for the heart of the Samurai. By a miracle, the knife missed the heart cutting slightly through Master Yakimoto’s left shoulder. With lightening speed, Master Yakimoto drew out his sword and quickly, spinning to the side with one swing, cut the skinny man’s head off. The body stood straight for a moment, blood pouring from the neck, and then collapsed heavily to the floor. A few convulsions and it was all over. The skinny man was dead. His head, by some strange coincidence, had rolled a few feet and stopped next to the head of the dead woman. His eyes were filled with the same horror seen in the woman he had killed only a few moments ago.

The guards were stunned. With terror in their eyes, they looked at the body of the man that they were assigned to protect and now he was lying dead on the floor. They realized what a terrible situation they were in. Failure to protect the life of a member of the royal family was punishable by death, especially if they failed to kill or capture his murderer. They didn’t hesitate. One of the guards moved in quickly and giving a loud cry with the sword high above his head, he attacked the Samurai. Moving quickly to his right, Master Yakimoto avoided the attack, at the same time striking at the head of the attacking guard, missing it only by inches. Like hungry wolves, the rest of the men drew their swords and with relentless fury, attacked the Samurai. Master Yakimoto knew that his life was in great danger. Even if he was a master with the sword, the odds were against him. These were well trained and skillful men. Killing all of them wasn’t going to be easy. He had no time to think. The guards had closed the circle completely and now he had only one chance to escape-the deer jump. He had learned this jump from his father many years ago. Now it was his only way out. Taking a deep breath and squatting low to the ground, the Samurai jumped straight up into the air. The jump carried him way over the heads of the attacking guards and he landed right behind them. Without any hesitation, he plunged his sword straight into the back of one of the guards. The sword penetrated the guard’s body, raging through his insides, coming out of the front of his chest. Quickly, Master Yakimoto pulled his sword out and the body of the guard fell lifeless to the ground, blood coming from his mouth.

The rest of the guards were shocked. This man had killed two of them before they could even give him a scratch. This wasn’t possible. After all, they were the elite of the Imperial Guard, experts with the sword and this Samurai had just killed one of them, not to mention the nephew of the Emperor, in a matter of seconds. They stood frozen for a moment, still in disbelief, but their hesitation didn’t last long. With renewed strength and fury in their hearts, they attacked the Samurai. The five guards reached him almost at the same time, the closest one plunging his sword straight at Master Yakimoto’s chest. Moving quickly to the side, Master Yakimoto raised his sword, blocking the strike. At the same time, he saw the shine of a second sword coming straight down on his head. Only his quick reflexes prevented the sword from cutting him in half. With lightening speed, he fell to the ground, rolling over to his side. The sword missed his head and body completely, throwing the guard off balance giving Master Yakimoto enough time to get back on his feet. Jumping high in the air, he raised his sword, slashing down at the head of the attacking guard. Missing the guard’s head by a couple of inches, the sword hit his shoulder, cutting the arm completely off of his body. Stunned by the loss of his arm, the guard fell to his knees and slowly rolled over. Pain, fear and shock overwrought his face and the guard didn’t know what to think. Only moments ago there had been seven of them, highly trained and skillful with the sword and this man was killing them one by one. The guard knew that he was going to die also. His wound wasn’t even hurting him anymore and he closed his eyes, not wanting to see what was going to happen next.

Jumping back and avoiding another attack, Master Yakimoto was relieved to see that the number of the guards had been reduced to four, but even so he couldn’t relax. His life was still in great danger. With their number now greatly reduced, the four guards moved cautiously, realizing that the man in front of them was not an ordinary man. Never before had they seen anyone fight like that. He wasn’t only fast, but also highly skilled and an expert with the sword. Only a few men in all Japan could fight like this man, and they didn’t even know his name.

Slowly, veering to the side, the four men started circling the Samurai. Covered in blood, Master Yakimoto stood in the middle of the room, carefully watching every move they made. By this time, all of the spectators had fled in panic for fear of losing their lives. The room was hot and still with the smell of death consuming the air. No one knew what was going to happen next. The Samurai remained calm and calculating, feeling his breath and pulse beat as a mantra of his strength and survival. Despite the odds he thought, he will not succumb. 

Continuing to circle around, the four members of the guards were trying to figure out a way to near the Samurai without feeling the fate of his deadly sword on their skin. The circle was tightening and becoming smaller and smaller, but the Samurai still did not move. With his sword high above his head and both hands tightly gripping the handle, he was ready for them to attack. Without any warning, one of the guards jumped high into the air, slashing down at the head of the Samurai. Master Yakimoto quickly jumped backward, avoiding the attack. At the same time, a second guard moved quickly to his side and spinning to his left attacked the Samurai. This time the attack was too fast and Master Yakimoto couldn’t move out of the way. The blade slashed through his sleeve, cutting deep into his left arm slightly below the shoulder. A sharp pain shot through his arm causing him to drop his sword on the floor. A victorious cry of seeming defeat and relief came from the mouths of the guards. They realized that for the first time since the battle had begun they had a real chance to succeed.

Wounded and without the use of his left arm, Master Yakimoto knew there was a great chance he could lose the battle. In a desperate move, he dropped to the floor grabbing his sword, while at the same time rolling to the side, barely avoiding another attack. The sword just missed his head hitting the granite floor, with sparks flying at the fierce power of contact. Coming to his knees, Master Yakimoto found himself face to face with the attacking guard. Before the guard could move, Master Yakimoto’s sword sank deep into his stomach penetrating his body, coming through his back. The wounded guard dropped his sword, his eyes filled with pain and disbelief. He looked at the Samurai, looked at his stomach and then fell to the ground. Only three left.

Tired and weak from the loss of blood, Master Yakimoto was relieved to see that the number of the guards was dwindling, but he knew it was not over yet. He had lost his sword in the stomach of the last guard. It had been pulled out of his hands with the fall and now he was left with the cleverness of his skill.

Standing on one knee, the Samurai was carefully watching the three guards, who sensed the inevitable. If they didn’t do something very quickly to kill this man, they would never see another day. With a fierce cry of anger and despair, the three guards unleashed another attack. Still on his knee, Master Yakimoto quickly raised his leg, delivering a hard kick to the groin of the oncoming guard. Dropping to his knees, the guard fell to the ground in great pain. Without any hesitation, Master Yakimoto sprung to his feet and jumped high into the air, landing on the head of the fallen guard, crushing his skull against the granite floor. At the same time, he pulled the short sword out of his sash and threw it at the oncoming guard. The sword sank deep into his chest, stopping him in his place. The wounded guard stood straight for a moment, trying to regain his balance, but his legs gave up the struggle and his body fell quickly to the ground. Only one left.

The last guard stared helplessly at the floor, where all his comrades were lying dead, slain by this one man whose name he did not even know. In a desperate move, the guard threw his sword at the Samurai, who moved quickly to the side. The sword missed his face and landed harmlessly on the floor a few feet away. The guard had no more desire to fight with a man who seemed to be invincible and giving one last look at the Samurai, he quickly ran out the door. Master Yakimoto didn’t try to stop him. He had enough killing for one night. Slowly, he moved toward one of the tables, sitting his tired body on the bench. Looking at the floor, sadness came into his heart. He had left the big city because he was tired of killing and because he wanted to live the rest of his life in peace, but it seemed that he could not escape the fate of a warrior. Wherever he went, he had to fight. He had to kill.

Master Ischuru! Master Ischuru!

The quiet, trembling voice of the old man interrupted his thoughts.

Ah, it’s you.

It was the owner of the inn, an old man he knew well, and Master Yakimoto was glad that he could talk to someone.

Master Ischuru, you must leave at once! There is great danger for you if you stay.

Why, old man? What happened here? Who were those men? Why did they kill this woman?

Those were government men and the tall, skinny man the one you killed first, was the nephew of the Emperor. They were having their pleasure with that woman and when she asked them for money, the nephew of the Emperor killed her. Then, you came in. As you can see, Master Ischuru, you must leave at once, before more of them come back.

The nephew of the Emperor!

Master Yakimoto knew he was in trouble. He knew killing a member of the royal family was punishable by death and until he was caught or killed, the government police and the Imperial Guard would never stop hunting him. He had to move fast.

Here you are old man-this is for your trouble.

Master Yakimoto left some money on the table and jumped quickly to his feet. His arm was still throbbing with a deep pain, but surprisingly the bleeding had stopped so he didn’t want to waste any more time. He walked to the middle of the room, where his swords were buried in the bodies of the dead guards. He pulled them out and started walking toward the door.

As he walked out of the inn, the cool evening air hit his face momentarily easing his body. He took a deep breath and started walking fast toward his home, which was only a few hundred yards away.

It wasn’t long before he reached his old house. He had rented it for himself and a young boy, who for the last few years had been his traveling companion. The young boy was an orphan. His parents were killed by bandits about eight years ago in a raid on their village. Master Yakimoto had been a police captain at the time and he was called to investigate. All they had been able to find were the ruins of the village and a little boy, about four years old. Everybody else had been killed. Ever since that time, he had taken care of the boy. He cared for the boy just as he would his own son. Never being married himself, Master Yakimoto didn’t know what it meant to be a father, but he was sure that if he had a son he wouldn’t have loved him any more than this boy. The little boy was obedient and quiet, and he loved the Samurai more than anything else in the world and would be devastated if anything ever happened to him.

The Samurai walked in and the boy jumped in panic, horrified by the vision before him.

Master, you are hurt! What happened?!

The boy was so scared. He didn’t know what had happened to him, but he knew that it had to be something very bad. In all the years they were together, he had never seen the Samurai like this. The Samurai looked very pale and exhausted. He was covered with blood and his left arm had a deep cut. The boy wanted to help, but he didn’t know how. He was running helplessly back and forth, not knowing what to do to help his wounded master.

Little one!

Yes, master!

Go to the well and fetch me some water.

Quickly, the boy grabbed a bucket and ran outside. Master Yakimoto was hurt and tired. He walked to the bed and laid his aching head on the soft pillow. He was trying to think, but his thoughts were in chaos, going in a hundred different directions. All he knew was that he had killed six important men, one of them being the nephew of the Emperor of Japan. From now on there would be no safe place for him to hide. In a few days his name would be all over the country. He would have no more than a few hours to think. The big city was only a day’s ride, and by tomorrow this place would be crawling with government police.

Here it is master!

The boy returned with a bucket full of water. Master Yakimoto got up from the bed and started to undress.

Bring me my bag from under the table.

Yes, master.

The boy picked up the bag and handed it to the Samurai. Inside the bag, he had new clothes, and most importantly healing herbs. The herbs were something that no warrior should be without. Many times in his life Master Yakimoto had been wounded. Without them he would have been dead long ago. A bitter smile came to his face. Maybe death was not a bad idea after all. Death could save him from a lot of trouble right now.

OOOOOWWWWW!

A sharp pain shot through his arm. He was trying to take his shirt off, but the blood had dried and the shirt was stuck to the skin.

Quick! Give me some water!

The boy jumped to his feet and brought back a cup of water. Slowly, Master Yakimoto poured it onto his wound, trying to soften the shirt. After a few tries he was able to remove the shirt and look at his wound for the first time. The cut was deep and swollen causing him great pain even with the slightest movement. Carefully, he washed the wound and covered it with herbs. In a few days his arm would be okay. He had been lucky the blade had missed the artery as the wound could have been much worse, but right now he could not worry about his arm. He and the boy had to leave town immediately or face the wrath of the Imperial Guards. He was sure that they would arrive no later than the next day.

Master!

The voice of the boy startled the Samurai.

What happened? Who hurt you?

I was in a fight little one. I killed some very important men and now the police will be looking for me. We must leave this place by morning. We can’t stay here anymore. The penalty for what I’ve done is death.

The boy listened with a terrified look in his eyes knowing that the situation was serious.

We have to find a place where we can stay for a while and that won’t be easy. My name will be all over Japan and everybody will be looking for me.

Master!

The boy suddenly remembered something. He knew a place where they could go.

Master, I know a place where it will be safe for us.

The Samurai looked at the boy and a thin smile cracked his tired face. Safe? No place in all of Japan would be safe for him, but he didn’t want to scare the boy anymore so he asked the boy where the place was.

Do you remember my village, where I used to live?

Yes, I do. What about it?

Not far from there in the mountains is an old temple that was burned by the bandits. My father took me fishing there once and I remember him telling me that nobody was living there, because the bandits had killed all the monks. Even the people of the village were scared to go there. They were afraid of ghosts.

Master Yakimoto listened carefully. The boy’s idea wasn’t bad. If they could only reach the temple without being spotted by the police, this could be the perfect place for them to stay for a while.

That isn’t a bad idea little one. I don’t think we have any choice anyway. We will leave early in the morning. Please, go outside and get the horses ready so we don’t have to waste any time tomorrow.

The boy left the room quietly leaving the Samurai alone with his thoughts. Lying on his bed, he was thinking about the terrible thing that had happened to him. Once, one of the greatest Samurais and lawmen in the land and now he was one of the most wanted men in Japan. How quickly life can change, he thought. Tired and in pain, he closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

The sun was high in the sky when the boy suddenly woke and quickly realized it was late in the morning.

Master, master we’re late!

The loud, trembling voice of the boy startled the Samurai.

Late! It can’t be!

He had just closed his eyes. Looking out the window, Master Yakimoto could clearly see that it was late in the morning. Without wasting any time, he grabbed his bag and started toward the door.

Quick! Let’s go!

The boy grabbed his bag and followed the Samurai outside where the horses were saddled and ready for travel. He and the boy mounted the horses and were quickly on their way.

Hours were going by and the horses were beginning to get tired, but Master Yakimoto had no intention of stopping. He wanted to put as much distance between him and the town, and he was going to push the horses to the limit.

Suddenly, a cloud of dust about a mile ahead attracted his attention and he and the boy quickly brought their horses to a stop.

There are men coming toward us, master.

I see them.

Who do you think they are?

I don’t know, but it’s not important. Let’s get off of the road before they see us."

He and the boy quickly pulled their horses off of the road into a small brush covering the hills. In a few moments, they were out of sight, deeply hidden behind the trees. They cautiously watched the clouds of dust coming closer and closer. Soon, Master Yakimoto could clearly see they were the uniforms of the Imperial Guard. There was no doubt in his mind where they were going and what they ordered to do.

Master, Imperial Guards. The boy said in a hard whisper.

Yes, I know.

Do you think they are looking for you?"

Yes, little one. There is no doubt in my mind. They are looking for me.

The horsemen were now no more than a hundred yards away. Master Yakimoto could clearly count twenty-six men, all heavily armed with swords, bows and arrows. He knew how lucky they were that they had