Tengu kept the soldier company while he died. The duel had lasted seven heartbeats and came to an end when she delivered a gut-thrust beneath his leather breastplate. The blade punched deep into viscera, grated against his spine and erupted from his back. The samura1i emitted a shriek which shocked birds from the forest canopy and sent them fluttering into the sky. He dropped his weapon and rolled, foetal, on the ground. She cleaned and sheathed her sword then made him as comfortable as she could. She balled his cloak and put it beneath his head as a pillow then searched the forest for firewood. When the piled branches were well alight she knelt and warmed her hands. The dying man stared into the flames.

Tengu was an onna-bugeisha, a travelling sword master, a follower of the Way. She walked province to province, sought out fellow adepts and challenged them to fight to the death. The soldier was a member of General Motohide’s militia. Motohide had been lord of northern Etchū, and had commanded a formidable army. But the General was dead, his battalions had been disbanded and now starving ronin stalked the highways and menaced any traveller they met along the way. The grey-bearded samurai had clearly dedicated his life to military service and been left destitute. His attempt to surprise and overpower Tengu as she walked down the track had been half-hearted, as if he were overcome by shame and disgust by his own actions. She had struck a fatal blow from instinct rather than anger. If she had been given time to consider her response to his attack, she would have scarred his face and sent him on his way.

The soldier looked around the clearing in wonder. His patched armour suggested he had seen battle many times. He had, no doubt, tried to imagine his own death, tried to imagine how it would feel to be finally, fatally outmatched, and now the moment had arrived. His last day, his last breaths. He drank in the scenery with the wide-eyed astonishment of a newborn child.

‘Are you in any discomfort?’ asked Tengu.

All soldiers feared a gut wound. A blow to the head was a quick, clean death, whereas a stab to the abdomen could leave a man in agony for days before he expired. She was prepared to deliver a knife-thrust to the back of his neck if he wished, and dispatch him with a mercy stroke as if he were a wounded man lying on the battlefield. She hoped that, when the time came, someone would offer her the same service.

‘Strange. I don’t feel any pain. I just feel tired.’

He showed no animosity towards the girl who had taken his life and showed no shame at being bested by a woman. A man in fine health might bridle at the thought of meeting his end at the hands of a female, but now the mortal blow had been delivered she supposed it didn’t matter to him any more.

‘Who are you?’ he asked.

‘A follower of the Way.’

‘What’s your name?’

‘Tengu.’

‘Tengu? A daemon? A harbinger of war? What’s your real name?’

‘I left my given name behind a long time ago.’

‘But a girl. Fourteen, fifteen summers old, yet a truly formidable foe. I’ve never encountered such a thing.’

‘Excavate the burial pits at the site of any great battle. You’ll find the bones of women still strapped in their armour.’

‘Women might join the ranks to defend their town or village, but you follow the Way. I’ve never seen a girl present herself as an adept. Don’t you have any parents?’

‘I had a father of sorts. A great warrior. He knew his life would be short so he taught me to fight to ensure I could defend myself after he was gone.’

‘A wise man.’

‘He still looks after me. I am protected by his spirit night and day.’

‘Then you are truly fortunate. Where will you go from here?’

‘Why do you ask? This is the end of your journey. For you, there will be no tomorrow.’

‘I’ve often pictured the man who would take my life. In my dreams he was a great warrior who dominated the field of battle and cut down anyone in his path. I never imagined death would come in the form of a girl-child.’

‘Do I remind you of someone? A daughter you left behind someplace?’

‘There’s only one reason a swordsman would walk this road. You are heading for the district of the Forty-Eight Waterfalls. You intend to visit the Temple of Shadows.’

‘You were walking the same road.’

‘I was too old to become one of their assassins. They want youngsters they can mould into agents of death. You are the right age, but they will never allow a girl to join their number. You are on a fool’s errand.’

‘I’ve killed so many men I’ve lost count,’ said Tengu. ‘I was there when General Motohide’s castle burned to the ground. In fact, I helped set the fire. I saw flames light the night sky and I watched his men scatter in panic.’

‘The temple order will not admit a girl, even if you brought them Motohide’s head in a box.’

‘We’ll see.’

‘Don’t throw your life away,’ said the samurai. ‘Be a wife, a mother.’

Tengu laid a hand on the hilt of her sword.

‘This is who I am. I can’t be anyone else.’

The dying soldier shook his head and smiled.

‘The old try to counsel the young, but no one ever listens. Each generation is determined to make the same mistakes as the last. Listen to me, girl: choose another life, before it’s too late.’

‘I was destined to walk this path.’

The dying soldier lay back as his strength ebbed away and looked up at the branches above him. He watched the sky turn gold and enjoyed his last sunset.