Kuroba Asashin's Arc

Chapter 2 of 44

They walked until dusk and turned back. Ona said the shack was the only water for a day in any direction. Kuroba agreed. They ate cold meat by the door and slept inside, the odachi within reach, her bow strung beside her hand. He told her to wake him at any sound. She said she would wake first anyway. She did. Before dawn she kicked his boot. He heard hooves and wheels in the sand, then voices. Many voices. He looked through a crack in the wall. Torches strung out across the flat. Riders. Wagons. Two hundred men, maybe more, dressed in mismatched armor, some carrying chains. Ona said one word. "Slavers." She reached for her bow. Kuroba put his hand over hers. "Stay inside," he said. "Bar the door after me. Do not open it until I say your name." She looked at the mask, at the sword, at the size of the group outside. She did not argue. She dropped the bar into place behind him. He walked out into the torchlight and stopped ten paces from the shack. He drew the odachi and set his feet in the loose sand where he had already marked the ground the evening before. The front riders slowed. Kuroba announced “Whatever you’re looking for, you won’t find it here. I advise you to move on.”. One laughed and raised a hand to signal the others. Kuroba did not wait for the signal to finish. He moved. He cut the two lead horses' girths and the men fell under their own weight. He was inside the line before the rest understood there was a line. He kept low. He worked the ground he had chosen, drawing them onto soft sand where their boots slipped and their swings went wide. He cut hamstrings and wrists and throats in that order. He did not stop to look at what he had done. When a torch fell, he stepped past it. When a man ran, he let him run. The ones who stayed died. It took less time than it should have. The last dozen dropped their weapons and rode off into the dark on whatever horses were still standing. He stood in the sand and breathed. Bodies lay in a rough arc around him. He wiped the blade on a dead man's cloak and sheathed it. He called Ona's name. The bar lifted. She came out with the bow drawn anyway, an arrow on the string. She looked at the field. She looked at him. She did not speak for a long moment. Then she said, "Some got away." Kuroba nodded. "They will tell others." She lowered the bow. "So we can't stay." "No." He looked east, where the sand rose into low hills. "We leave at first light. We take what they brought." She was already walking toward the nearest wagon.