The Blazing Tempest

DISCLAIMER: This story is a non-commercial work of fiction based on the anime/manga Samurai 7. Original copyright of Samurai 7 belongs to Akira Kurosawa, Shinobu Hashimoto, Hideo Oguni, MICO, GDH, GONZO. Absolutely no monetary gain has been made with this work.


THE BLAZING TEMPEST
By Rory V. Pascual (Edited by Saiyukihana)
© Original Version 2001; Samurai 7 Version June 21, 2006


Chapter Ten

"What...are...you...doing?"

Shichiroji was standing with his legs apart, arms crossed over his chest. His brow had formed a sinister arch, lips pursed in a pout.

The object of his displeasure was seated under a date palm, trying desperately to look innocent.

Takeru had Zumillah propped on his lap, wrapped in swaddling clothes. However, one little arm was free. With the concubine's gleeful assist, the baby had a kodachi throwing dart clenched in her tiny fist. Takeru was holding a similar weapon in his other hand. The Samurai had caught the concubine playing 'swords with the infant.

"Takeru, hand them over," Shichiroji ordered sternly, raising a gesturing hand, palms up, to the concubine. "Zumillah is still too young to be playing 'Queen of Swords'. Hasn't anyone ever told you not to let children play with sharp objects?"

Grumbling to himself, Takeru handed the darts over.

The Samurai grimaced at the sight of those sharp points. He raised a finger to poke at the tip, all the while scolding, "I swear, Takeru, sometimes you have the mind of a child. Why can't you be more like Shinno -- level-headed, responsible..."

But as Shichiroji pressed on the point, the length of the dart suddenly gave way. Holding the tip, he bent the dart left and right. Rubber. A harmless toy painted to look like a fiercesome weapon.

Shichiroji slowly turned to Takeru, growling menacingly. With a wave and a giggle, the concubine picked up the baby and made a quick getaway.

"TAKERU!" the Warrior cried out as he went after the mischievous whore.

In his haste, Shichiroji did not notice the figure weaving right into his path. Before he knew what was happening, the Samurai plowed into Shinno. Takeru stopped at once, gasping in shock, as the two men collided.

As he got to his feet, Shichiroji started waving the fake darts right in Shinno's face. "Is this your idea? I thought Takeru was the immature one. But you're much worse. Where did you get these things anyway, Shinno? These are not good toys for a child, much more a baby girl. There's already too much violence in this world. Should you even begin to foster these tendencies at such a very early age?" He looked suspiciously at the whoremaster before him. "Shinno, are you drunk? ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?"

Shinno had stood up, his whole body wobbling, as he fixed the turban on his head. Furious as he was, Shichiroji grabbed the whoremaster by the shoulders. Takeru turned as white as a sheet when the Samurai gave Shinno a kiss, the mask the only barrier between their lips. The concubine winced as Shinno decked the Warrior a good one, that Shichiroji fell to the ground, his head hitting a small rock. Brushing the sand from his clothes, the whoremaster sauntered away.

Shichiroji tried to make sense of where he was, but his head was whirling and there was an annoying ringing in his ears. Opening his eyes brought a wave of nausea that he snapped them shut again. Before he did so, he had caught a glimpse of three shadowy figures peering down at him.

"Is he dead? Is he dead?" a voice whom he recognized as Shinno's asked near his right.

There was a snort. In his gritty voice, Masamune replied, "He's a samurai. No warrior ever died from just one punch."

At once, a baby started to cry, only making his headache worse.

"Go on, Little Taisho, and take care of the child," he heard Gorobei advise. "We'll see to Shichiroji's care."

There was another snort. "And he's supposed to be a great samurai? I never saw such a clumsy fool in my life. He's a disgrace to all warriors."

As he was being helped up, Shichiroji blubbered, "Clumsy? Me, clumsy? I was caught off guard. Damn it! Bloody drunk as he was, he should consider himself lucky that I still gave him a kiss."

"Drunk?" Gorobei queried. Dizzy as he was, the Samurai did not notice the moor give Masamune a smoldering glare. "Don't worry, my friend! If I had known, I would have given Shinno a scolding."

But Shichiroji shook their hands away. "Don't bother! I'll give Shinno a hiding myself!"

"You're not well," the scribe argued, as he and Gorobei moved forward to steady the Samurai, who stumbled. "Why don't you sit for awhile and just let healing do its work?"

"No! I want to get my hands on that drunken whoremaster! Now, get your hands off me!"

Saying this, Shichiroji yanked his arms loose and wobbled off in the direction that Shinno had taken. He had just turned at the corner of one tent when another wave of dizziness hit him. Pausing for a moment, he leaned against the post, waiting for the spinning of his surroundings to subside. When he opened his eyes, he jumped in surprise to find Tessai's scowling face before him.

"Good lord, Tessai! Don't do that!" Shichiroji declared, rubbing his chest. "My heart almost stopped!"

The Amanushi's adviser gave the Samurai a polite bow. "Forgive me for startling you like this."

"Is there something you wish to speak with me about? Unfortunately, this is a very bad time. There's a certain whoremaster that I would like to get my hands on."

"Whoremaster?" Tessai asked quizzically. "These past few weeks, your words still continue to confuse me. Who are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about Shinno. Damn him! He punched me in the face. I was scolding his brother Takeru earlier for letting the child Zumillah play with a dangerous-looking toy. I was telling Shinno about it -- and he was drunk out of his mind -- when he just hit me."

"Shinno? Takeru?"

"Don't play mind games with me, Tessai! My head is not up to any puzzles. You know who I'm talking about. Shinno, the whoremaster, is the twin brother of Takeru, the Amanushi's prized whore."

Silence. Then, the adviser remarked, "I see that there is a little...deception...going on around here. Don't think I didn't warn you. I told you that little minx is a sly one."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I cannot answer it now. Besides, the reason why I came here is to invite you to a small feast in my tent this evening." Tessai smiled at the Samurai. "I wanted to show you that there is no bad blood between us, and I am preparing something truly special tonight. I insist that you come. I assure you all your questions will be answered this eve."

"Yes, I'll be there," Shichiroji confirmed, granting the adviser a gracious bow, though the movement caused his head to spin again.

As Tessai walked away, the Warrior continued on his little search for the whoremaster. Sure enough, he heard furious voices coming from the servant's area. With slow, measured steps, Shichiroji found himself standing behind the camels, looking at the two figures fighting before a tent.

Shinno had his head meekly bowed, unable to look at Takeru who was gesturing angrily with his hands. As the Samurai watched, the concubine reached inside the whoremaster's shirt and pulled out a wine bottle. Angrily, Takeru broke the bottle against the post, eliciting a pinched cry from Shinno. For a moment, Shichiroji thought that the whoremaster was going to charge at the concubine. However, Takeru's hand flew out, delivering a ringing slap to Shinno's cheek. Grabbing his arm, Takeru yanked the whoremaster inside the tent.

Shichiroji stood in stunned silence. He was oblivious to the fact that the camel beside him was chewing contemplatively on his burnoose, as his mind brought him back to specific incidents of the past few weeks.

"Takeru was branded with the Amanushi's mark," Gorobei had told him. "But Shinno strongly refused to have the same done to him."

Shichiroji's mind returned to that night in the desert when he had made wonderful love to the twin concubines. His eyes flew wide in shock, the realization hitting him with the force of a sandstorm.

"Takeru was branded."

The Samurai recalled kissing both whores in one particular spot on their bodies. BOTH had rough scars, obviously a brand, on their right shoulder blades.

Now, there was the argument he had unwittingly stumbled upon. Before the twins entered the tent, Shichiroji had heard an angry exclamation. Only two words, but he heard them clearly.

"DRUNKEN FOOL!"

Two words. Two angry words that were issued from the furious lips of the Amanushi's 'mute' concubine, Takeru.


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