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MERCILESS ONO by Charlie Kondek
From the annals of the shogun’s detective, Inspector Nishimura, a
perplexing encounter from the Kyoho period (1716–1736).
Inspector Nishimura’s staff received a tip from an informant on the location of an
outlaw they’d been trying to apprehend, a man called Merciless Ono. The trail led to a farming village,
and when the inspector and his samurai arrived there, they assembled its inhabitants and
those of the outlying houses in the village square. Neither Inspector Nishimura nor his
men had ever seen Merciless Ono, but they had his description: a man of average height
with a wide, sturdy build, and tattoos on his chest and arms. Also, he was missing a
finger, the pinky of his left hand, which was not uncommon for a yakuza bandit like Ono.
Sometimes, a yakuza’s digit is severed ceremoniously and offered to his boss, the
oyabun, to atone for a mistake. Merciless Ono must have done this at some point in his
career and was an oyabun now, himself.
So
they were looking for a strong man with tattoos and a missing finger. The problem was,
as they surveyed the assembled villagers, there were three such men, each of about the
same age and build, each with a missing finger. To confound matters, these three were taken
to a barn and stripped of their jackets, where it was discovered that all had the same
tattoos, a pattern of carp, tigers, goddesses, and demons that spread from each man’s
pectoral region to his wrists. “What’s the meaning of this?” barked the
inspector’s assistant angrily. “Which one of you is Merciless Ono?” None
of the men would speak.
Inspector Nishimura remarked calmly, “A clever ruse, elaborate and
costly. Meant, no doubt, to throw us off the scent or buy time for the real Ono to escape.
Hold these men. Let’s think about this.” He withdrew to the village headman’s house to drink tea while his
staff watered their horses and guarded the three Onos. What else did they know about Ono, the inspector wondered, that
might help them separate the imposters from the original? That he had earned the nickname
“merciless” for the savagery with which he dealt with his enemies. That he,
like most of his ilk, loved gambling and women. That a big reason for his success as
a gangster was his mastery of the martial arts. “Let’s just torture all three
until they confess,” grumbled the inspector’s assistant. The inspector replied,
“I think I have a better idea.”
Inspector Nishimura moved to an isolated corner of the village, a
clearing in the surrounding forest beside a tranquil stream and ordered the three Merciless
Onos brought to him one by one. When the first was before him, the inspector stood for
a time holding his clasped fan and observing the man. Then, suddenly and without telegraphing
the movement, he thrust the fan into the stomach of this Merciless Ono, who flinched, yelped,
and attempted to cover the spot with his hands. Uselessly, as it turned out, for the thrust
struck home and knocked the wind out of the man, bending him double. When the second man was brought to Nishimura, he repeated this
performance. This Merciless Ono twisted his body just enough to avoid the worst of the
blow, still enough to sink him to one knee. When the third Merciless Ono was brought to Nishimura, he regarded
the inspector warily, perhaps suspicious of what had happened to the other two, which was
unknown to him. As before, they watched each other for a time. When Inspector Nishimura
attacked, this Merciless Ono was caught completely by surprise. Struck by the fan in his
diaphragm, he crumpled to the ground. Withdrawing, Inspector Nishimura said to his assistant, “I think
we’ve found our Ono.” * * *
It was the third man, whom Nishimura was able to attack without
meeting any form of defense. Merciless Ono knew that the inspector knew he was a martial
arts master, so he tried to disguise the fact that he could have dodged or blocked Nishimura’s
fan. However, in doing so he neglected to act like a normal person, which can’t help
covering up or flinching when struck. Only a trained fighter could have anticipated the
blow and accepted it completely as Ono did. After interrogating all three separately, Inspector
Nishimura confirmed his theory.
All
three were decapitated.
THE
SAMURAI’S SIGNAL by Charlie Kondek From the annals of the shogun’s detective, Inspector
Nishimura, a matter most delicate and strange that took place during
the Kyoho period (1716–1736).
In
a duel between the Swift Stroke school and the Eight Divine Weapons school, the Swift Stroke
swordsman Takeshi Miura killed Kenji Imai—with a kiai, a martial shout, which some
say can be developed so strongly in a warrior as to be deadly. Inspector Nishimura consulted
the shogun’s personal bodyguard, who said: “The
Swift Stroke school is commendable. It is said that the essence of its teaching is contained
in the saying, ‘Before the last echo of a temple bell, you will have acted,’
which means a Swift Stroke swordsman like Miura maintains a clear, immovable mind that
meets all circumstances decisively. Still, I do not believe he has the power to kill with
a shout.” And yet, according to witnesses,
that’s what happened. After a prolonged crossing of blades in which both men stared,
unflinchingly, into each other’s eyes, excruciating minutes passed without an attack
by either but by making tactical adjustments to their posture and the position of their
blades. Their samurai swords were now lifted overhead, now lowered, now on the hip, now
at the shoulder. Then, Miura suddenly released a battle cry that dropped Imai to the earth,
dead. After thinking a while on what the bodyguard said, Inspector Nishimura consulted
the shogun’s poisoner. The poisoner said: “It is not possible
to activate a poison with sound. If it were, Imai might have died in the street at the
cry of a fishmonger. What’s more likely, if he was poisoned, was that it was timed
to take effect at a specific interval—say, an hour from ingestion. Miura could have
known that and timed his kiai so that it occurred at the same moment the poison stopped
Imai’s heart. Did Imai eat or drink something that Miura observed, or which could
have been reported to Miura?” In truth, no, for both swordsmen
were sequestered behind red and white partitions in the hours leading up to the duel, which
took place in a field at the edge of a town. Imai did engage in the tea ceremony beforehand,
however, and could have been poisoned then. Spectators to the duel, which included villagers
and passers-by, observed this—though Miura from behind his screen could not, and Imai’s seconds saw
no person pass from their camp to Miura’s with this information. If Imai was poisoned
as the shogun’s poisoner envisioned, someone in the crowd could only have passed
this information to Miura during the prolonged minutes of the duel by signaling. But how? Once again, Inspector Nishimura
and his staff interrogated the witnesses. They learned that three notable things happened
among the spectators to the duel shortly before the fatal kiai. A traveler removed his
conical hat and mopped his brow with a kerchief. A priest transferred his ornamented shakujo
staff from one hand to the other, causing a gentle jingling of its iron rings. And a farmer
lit his pipe, sending up a cloud of tobacco smoke. Sight, sound, scent. Could one of these
have been the signal to Miura that Imai’s heart was about to give out? His assistant
said, “Let’s arrest all three and torture them to extract a confession.” “No,” said Inspector
Nishimura. “I know who to arrest.” *** Miura’s accomplice was disguised as the priest with the ringed
staff. With his eyes fixed on his opponent, Miura couldn’t be sure he could see
a signal, and if the wind shifted, he couldn’t be sure he could smell it.
Besides, the essence of the Swift Stroke school is captured in the saying,
“Before the last echo of the temple bell, you will have acted.” Miura used the
sound of the rings to signal the moment to kiai. Confronted with this, Miura’s
accomplice confessed, and Miura was allowed to commit
seppuku—ritual suicide.
Charlie
Kondek is a marketing professional, student of the Japanese arts of kendo and iaido,
and short story writer from metro Detroit. His work has previously appeared at Yellow
Mama, and such places as Dark Yonder, Black Cat Weekly, and Hoosier
Noir. More at CharlieKondekWrites.com.
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