Heaven's Net Is Wide by Lian Hearn (good books to read for 12 year olds .TXT) 📕

“I am grateful for Lord Iida’s opinion of my ability, but I am under no obligation to obey any command from him. It is well known that my allegiance has always been to the Otori. Besides, Lord Sadamu is a little old for my instruction, and I am sure he has already benefited from Inuyama’s greatest swordsmen, such as Lord Miura himself.”

“I am flattered that you know me. But you must also know that my reputation is nothing in the Three Countries compared to your own.”

Shigeru heard arrogance behind false humility. He does not believe what he says. He believes himself to be better than Matsuda; he feels slighted because Iida approached Matsuda. He has come here to challenge him. There can be no other reason.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Matsuda said, apparently affably. “We live very simply here, but you are welcome to share whatever we have…”

Miura interrupted him. “I have not come all this way to drink tea and compose poems. I have come to challenge you: first, because you insult the Tohan clan by refusing my master’s invitation, and second, because if I defeat you, Lord Iida will know he does not have to look for teachers among the Otori.”

“I am no longer a warrior,” Matsuda said. “Just a monk who does not fight anymore. I have no weapon here, apart from the training poles. No insult was intended.”

“Take my sword, and I will fight with Inaba’s; that will make us equal.” Miura unsheathed the sword and took a step forward. “Either we fight or I cut you down now, you and your pupil. Fight me and whatever the outcome, I will spare him.”

It was clear the warrior was not going to be dissuaded. Shigeru felt his heartbeat pick up. He tightened his grip on the pole and moved his feet slightly so the setting sun fell over his shoulder.

Matsuda said, “Since you show such consideration for my pupil, you may fight him.”

Miura sneered. “I don’t challenge boys or novices.”

Matsuda addressed Shigeru formally. “Lord Otori, take Lord Miura’s sword.”

Shigeru bowed equally formally, handed the pole to his teacher and stepped forward. There was a moment when he felt his own complete vulnerability, unarmed before Miura’s sword. He masked it by gazing calmly at the warrior, assessing him.

Miura was a little shorter than he was, ten or fifteen years older, and much broader in the shoulders. His arms and legs were solid with muscle. Shigeru guessed his technique would be grounded in power rather than speed. His reach would be limited. His strength would be greater, but he had not been taught by Matsuda Shingen.

“Lord Otori?” Miura said, taken aback. “The oldest son? Shigeru?”

“Lord Otori is the only man who has ever bested me,” Matsuda said calmly.

And there was another advantage. Miura was disconcerted by the situation that now presented itself, into which his own blustering had led him. To challenge Matsuda and kill him was one thing; to kill the heir to the Otori clan was quite another. It might be Sadayoshi and Sadamu’s secret desire, but it could never be condoned by them publicly or forgiven by the Otori. It would plunge the Three Countries into immediate war. Miura’s life and the lives of his family would be forfeit.

Good, Shigeru thought. The sooner we fight the Tohan, the more likely we are to defeat them. My father has another son. It seemed suddenly, in that moment, a good death, and he chose it steadfastly, neither looking at the future nor dwelling on the past.

“Give me your sword,” he said.

“You will let a boy fight in your place?” Miura attempted to browbeat Matsuda.

“As I said, Lord Otori is my better. Defeat him and you defeat me. You may then take my life, worthless as it is. All the insults you imagine will be wiped out. And I certainly will not have to go to Inuyama. Give your sword to Lord Otori as you suggest. It seems quite fair to me, unless you often practice with your companion’s sword.”

“I have never held it in my hands till now,” Miura replied.

The exchange of swords was made. Shigeru took Miura’s in both hands and, stepping to one side, looked at it carefully. The cutting edge was unblemished, the curved steel perfectly honed. It was a little heavier than his own, suiting Miura’s greater bulk, but its balance was good and it responded to his grip. He made a couple of swift passes through the air and heard the steel sing as the sword came to life. He deliberately chose simple, basic exercises, knowing Miura would be watching him, hoping to maintain the disconcertion, hoping to lull him into overconfidence.

He felt his teacher’s trust and had the same confidence in him, knowing Matsuda would never put his life at risk, would have fought Miura himself rather than do that.

They faced each other on the sandy ground. Inaba took the horses a little distance away and stood between them. Matsuda was on the opposite side of the clearing. He said nothing but gazed steadily at Shigeru.

It was over quickly. Miura made a conventional attack, not unlike the sort of thing Shigeru had learned from his sword teacher in Hagi, Irie Masahide. He was strong but slow and less than wholehearted, as Shigeru had suspected. Shigeru’s upbringing and training had prepared him for this moment; he had known it would come and he was ready for it. He had not longed for it, but neither did he flinch from it. He feinted against the attack, making it look as if he would repeat the elementary exercise he had just practiced, and as Miura’s sword responded, he moved the other way and found the unprotected area between chest and groin.

He was amazed at how easily the blade slid through clothing and flesh, how swiftly it whipped back and cut again, this time into the top of the neck as Miura fell forward. Shigeru was filled with a terrible sense