Pablo: A Series of Independent Stories

Pablo vs The Ghost of Komorebi

“Komorebi: The sunlight filtering through the trees. A poem unwritten, only experienced. A breeze cools the air, sunlight glinting through the leaves, this is where peace is. It’s safe, tranquil, the birds who sing tell me as much, yet, as the sun goes down something equally as beautiful, something equally as tranquil. The moonlight filtering through the trees. I have no single word to describe it, no poem. Its beauty mirrored, dark stillness cools and quiets, something watches me.”

“My belt, my sword, out of reach, but my pistol isn’t.” Ernie’s snoring is muffling the noise of the forest, damping out the sound. But the moonlight, peeking through the leaves in trees, shows its face. Shows that something watches almost out of sight. *Tick, Tick, Tick* The revolver ticks; blocked out by Ernie’s snores; its hammer drawn back. A finger readies to fire. Then, nothing. It’s gone. The faint visage vanishes. Leaving nothing but shadow and absence.

“What the hell?” Pablo sat upright, revolver drawn. Reaching over to his belt, Pablo strapped it around his waist, buckling it into place. “Hey, what are you doing mano?” Antonio groaned into consciousness, eyes creaking open.

“I saw someone, watching us.”

“What?” Antonio shot up. “Wha… where?”

Pointing into the void, Pablo peered into the night. “There.”

Huffing, “You sure, you saw someone?”

“I saw something.” His gaze drifted over the darkness.

Rising to his feet, Antonio patted Pablo on the back, “I don’t see anything.”

“I know, because it’s gone now.”

“I think your mind is playing tricks on you, Hermano. There’s nothing out there.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

“Get some sleep, there’s nothing out there.”

“No, I’ve slept enough.”

“Fine, suit yourself.” Antonio yawned, “Stay up all night if you want, but I’m going back to sleep.”

“You do that.” Looking down at the revolver in his hand, Pablo held the hammer back, pulling the trigger, decocking it in the process. With a flourish, he holstered it, sitting down in front of the fire pit and its dying embers.

…

By the time the sun began to trickle through the trees, both Ernie and Antonio, Pablo’s companions, had awakened. Breakfast already eaten; the trio began readying themselves to continue along the path to the town of Komorebi. A town whose beauty is said to be unmatched. Full of rich art, music, and cuisine. A festival to mark the end of summer, full of drink, good times, and of course women. Pablo readied his horse, strapping his bed roll into place.

“So, you think you saw something last night?” Ernie gruff voice drawing Pablo’s attention.

“I did.” Pablo looked at the short and bulky man. “Over by that tree.”

“Maybe it was a spirit.” The stocky man flashed a crooked and chipped smile. “Watching and waiting for some unsuspecting villager to wander too far into the forest, so it can snatch them.”

With a laugh, Antonio interjected, “Or an Oni, seeking blood.”

Rising onto his horse, Pablo shook his head. “Perhaps, or maybe it was a thug who’s been waiting for people coming up this road for the festival so he can rob them.”

After a pause from the other two, Ernie hoisted himself onto his horse. “Yeah, but that’s not as fun.”

…

Trodding along the beaten path, the trio joked and jeered at Pablo’s expense. “Laugh it up. We’ll see who protects you if something does happen.” Pablo jabbed.

“Oh yes, you couldn’t go on without me.” Ernie touted, his chin raised high.

“I just might.” Pablo warned, shaking his head with a smile.

“Hey, wait, shh, shh… Do you hear that?” Antonio interrupted, stone-faced.

“Oh no, is something following us?” Ernie mocked.

“Shhh, no actually. Shut up.” Antonio waved at them. Just then, faint and distant, a woman screamed. Pain or anguish muddled by distance. “There, that. You hear that?”

Pistol already drawn, Ernie nodded. spurring his horse in its direction, “Well c’mon ladies. Let’s not keep ’em waiting.”

“Hey, wait, NO!” Antonio called as Pablo followed, spurring his horse. Antonio groaned, prodding his horse to follow. “Seriously? Why we always gotta run toward the danger?”

A second wail rang out, this time much closer. Ernie ahead of the pack, dug his spurs in further, his dingy green poncho flowing in the wind. Birds and squirrels fleeing their nests as the wails grew louder.

“NOOOOOO!” A woman shrieked.

“Oye, We’re coming.” Ernie pushed on.

Reaching the scene, Ernie yanked his horse’s reins, skidding and sliding in the dirt as he did so. Attempting to regain its balance, the horse trailed in a circle calming its sprint. Ernie, eyes drawn to the horror in front of him. Pulled away only when Pablo and Antonio finally caught up to him.

“Oh shit.” Antonio gaped.

In front of them. Nearly 15 feet into the air a man hung from a tree. His white shirt stained in crimson streaks. Seemingly fresh wounds still running from his eyes, dripping, soaking into the earth below. Beneath him, a woman, a puddle of purple silk, weeping.

Jumping from his horse Ernie cautioned forward, “Miss, are you alright.” His gruff voice hushed.

“My husband. P-p-please,” tears streaking down her cheeks. The sniveling mess broke down further. “Oh, God. Tenshu, please. Please no, don’t take him from me.”

Kneeling beside her, Ernie held onto her arm. “Senora, please, what happened? Are you injured?”

“It took him.” she sniveled, “It took him, and. Oh god.” Looking up, she broke down further, her words becoming more and more incoherent.

Antonio looked over to Pablo, who stared at the weeping woman. Breaking his contact with the woman, Pablo lowered his gaze, “Tone, help me cut him down.”

Breaking free from his own gaze, Antonio nodded. “Yeah, uhh, right.”

“C’mon miss let’s move over.” Assisting her onto her feet, Ernie herded her away, as the duo gently brought the man down from his suspension. “Are you here with anyone else?”

Shaking her head, the woman looked over to her husband, “No, just.” pulling her gaze away. “Oh god, this can’t be real.”

“What do we do now?” Antonio asked.

“Cover him up. We’ll take them into town. Move from there.” Pablo nodded.

“Miss, do you have a horse or a wagon?” Ernie coaxed.

“At our camp.” She nodded, pointing down a separate, less beaten trail.

“C’mon then, let’s go get your stuff.” Antonio patted.

…

The group rode into Komorebi, its heart beat with bustling crowds. Stalls and vendors lining the road as they trod in. Smiles and joy ceased however as the group rode past. A sad procession, cutting through the joy felt only moments ago. Three thugs leading the charge, towing behind a corpse shrouded in crimson stained bedding, and to finish off their band a woman; blood stained dress and tear-stained cheeks weeping softly as they rode past the crowd.

An elderly man waved to the group directing their travel. Gesturing for them to hitch their horses near his establishment, “Here. This way.” the man waived. “There! that’s good.” He halted the group. “Quick lets go, bring ’em inside.” He moved toward the door. Holding it open.

Hopping down from their horses, Pablo and Ernie moved to lift the corpse, from their makeshift Travois. While Antonio moved to assist the weeping woman down from hers.

“Careful, lay ’em here.” The elderly man directed the two toward a table in the back. “Gently now, good, good.” The elderly man sighed. “I see you folks, have had a rough start to the festival.”

“We’re not the ones who’ve had it rough.” Ernie sighed, looking to Antonio and the widow, who’d just entered the room.

“Ahh, I see. Well then thank you for aiding her.” Pulling a chair to the side, he gestured for her to sit.

“Oh, um. Thank you.” She bowed.

“Of course.” The elderly man nodded. Looking at the corpse, he drew in a deep breath, “I’m Hiroto. The town doctor.”

“Pablo.” Pablo nodded, removing his sombrero.

“Antonio.”

“Ernesto.” he added removing his as well.

“And you ma’am?” Hiroto placed a hand on her shoulder. “Your name miss?” He reiterated when she pulled her glassy eyes from her hands.

“Uhh, Missy.” she wiped her cheek. “People just call me Missy.”

“Well, Miss, uhh.. Missy. Are you alright? Have you been injured?”

Shaking her head, she fought the pain welling in her eyes. “No, no. I’m fine.”

“Okay, would you like to clean yourself up then? I have a sink in the back you can use if you’d like.”

Looking down at her red stained hands, she froze, trembling. “Umm.. yes, I’d like that.” Standing, she shifted moving through the door he pointed to.

Turning back to the trio, the old doctor. Clapped softly, “You lot turned a few heads riding in here like that.”

“Yeah, sorry ’bout that.” Enrie rested his hands on the back of his head, leaning into them.

“Oh, there’s nothing to be sorry about.” He nodded, looking at the body lying on his table. “You three know what happened?”

Looking amongst one another the trio shrugged, “Honestly, no.” Antonio shook “We heard screaming and when we got there.” Antonio pointed to the body, “He was hanging from a tree.”

“Yeah. His eyes were missing. Looked fresh too.” Ernie added.

Eyes widening The Doctor attempted to mask his shock. “I see.” He turned away from the group, shuffling tools on the desk behind him. “Why don’t you boys take a seat in the other room? The Sheriff’ll be here any minute and he’ll want to hear more about it.” Nodding, eyes darting, the doctor began to pace. “Actually, you know what, I’ll go make sure he’s on his way. If you wouldn’t mind.” He gestured to the chairs in the waiting room.

…

Staring up at the ceiling, a creak in the boards pulled Pablo’s attention back into the room. Missy entered from a separate room, her hands and face now clean. It was clear she had attempted to remove the scarlet stains from her dress, as they were now smeared, and muddled along the sides. “I want to.” She held her chest. “I want to thank you three. I-I don’t know what I would have done.” She paused the lump in her throat, choking her up.

“Don’t worry about it.” Ernie waived.

“No, you three.” She drew in sharply, “Thank you.”

“It’s not a problem.” Antonio nodded.

Just then the door opened, and an Asian fellow wearing a wide brimmed cream colored hat and opulent green vest. Fixed to his chest a golden five pedaled badge. Reading, “保安官”

’Boys, this is The Sheriff.” The old doctor nodded.

“Howdy,” Ernie nodded, alongside the others.

Studying the trio, the sheriff watched each of them. First was Ernie, a stubby man with a bulky frame. His face was grubby and dirt smeared. He was mostly clean shaven, aside from the two tufts of hair on his upper lip. He wore an old green poncho that he tucked into his gun belt. Next was Antonio, a lanky fellow, and the tallest of the three. A man with caramel skin tone, a sharp jawline, and wavy hair. He was clean shaven and put together. He wore a black suit, the kind of suit a mariachi wears. Silver ornaments running up the sides of his leg. Normally much neater, but now it was wrinkled and coated in a thin layer of dirt. Finally, he looked at Pablo, paying closer attention. A worn red and brown poncho draped over his shoulders, tucked into a thick leather gun belt. Two blades hung to his left; the weapons of a samurai. The longer of the two blades had a hilt wrapped in crimson and the shorter; a pale, steely blue. He also had a revolver on his hip, matter of fact all three of them did, but nowadays who didn’t. A hat rested next to Pablo. A strange sombrero, unlike anything he’d seen before. A band of steel wrapped around its edge, riveted into place. Two golden fan-like ornaments, the Maedate of a samurai’s helmet riveted to the top, and in the center a golden plaque bearing an inscription, but he couldn’t see what it read. “That’s quite the choice of head wear.” The sheriff nodded. Pablo looked to his left, “Indeed, made it myself.”

The sheriff glanced over at the widow, who sat huddled into her seat. Her dress smeared in blood. It was an expensive dress, purple silk, Victorian style, and Japanese detailing. Intricate blossoms, and leaves dancing along its skirt. “Ma’am.” The sheriff nodded. “Are you the victim’s wife?”

“I am.” She nodded. “Do you mind giving me your name?”

“Missy.” Her eyes fixed to the floor. Her gaze never breaking away.

“I know this isn’t easy Missy, but can you tell me what happened?”

“Yes.” She nodded, her breath becoming more rapid. “I-I, uhhh.” tears welling in her eyes. “We were at our campsite. We were traveling” Her voice cracked, “We came here for the festival” Nodding the sheriff waited for her to continue. “We were only a two hour ride from town,” The pain trickled down her cheeks. Her voice trembled, “It’s all my fault.”

“It’s alright ma’am.” The sheriff patted her shoulder.

“No, it really isn’t. My husband is dead because I decided I wanted to camp out instead of riding two more hours in the dark.” She shook her head. “If I had just listened to my husband.”

“You can’t blame yourself miss, but I do need to know who’s responsible for this. I can’t do that without your assistance. So please tell me what happened.”

Wiping her reddened eyes; she looked around the room. “I don’t know. I…” She huffed.

“It’s okay.”

“I. I saw something.” Just then Ernie and Antonio, shifted their gaze over to Pablo, then back to the widow.

Taking a mental note of that, the sheriff nodded, “What did you see?”

“I don’t know, I couldn’t tell. I told my husband, and he laughed it off of course, but I couldn’t shake this feeling that something was lurking just out of sight. So I asked him to investigate.” She shook her head, not wanting to go on.

“Please miss.” The Sheriff comforted.

“When he finally gave in, we both heard something… I don’t know. Something shifted in the bush just out of the light. Jack grabbed his rifle of course and went to investigate.” She shook, tears running once more. “He told me to stay hidden. “He left me with his pistol and said not to move until he returned.” sniffling, she continued. “I sat there for hours, frozen, just listening, and nothing. He never returned.” Steeling herself, she choked through her heart ache. “When I finally heard the birds as the sun rose, I decided to look for him.” breaking down fully, no longer able to hold back. She sobbed. “That’s…That’s when I found him. Hanging… Hanging from a fucking tree. His god damn eyes plucked from his skull.”

The Sheriff’s eyes widened; he leaned back exchanging a glance with the doctor. Who nodded solemnly in response.

“What?” Pablo sat upright. “What do you know? You two are looking at each other like you know something.”

“Nothing, that was nothing.”

“Bullshit hermano, don’t play us for a bunch of fools.” Ernie scoffed “We saw that, and you know something.”

Rising from her seat, Missy grabbed onto The Sheriff. “You know something?” Shaking, she threw her weight into him. “You have to tell me, what is it? What did that to my husband?”

Grabbing a hold of her Antonio and Hiroto, pried Missy from The Sheriff. “Easy, easy.”

“Tell me you son of a bitch. What did that!” She writhed in their arms, melting onto the floor. “What killed him?”

Picking himself off the floor, The sheriff dusted himself off. “Look, I am telling you there is nothing to concern yourself with.” “CONCERN?!?” Hermano there is a dead man in the other room who had his eyes plucked out.” Pablo stood, hands waiving. “Please enlighten us, how is that not a concern.” looking to the others, Pablo scoffed, “There is something or someone in the forest, I saw it myself.” Now I find that hours later, “Aye, tu piche, fucking lawmen, more worthless than the fucking samurai.”

“Alright, easy!” The sheriff’s voice raised. “I know that you’re upset, but…”

“But nothing hermano, there is someone out there killing innocents. You have people flocking to this village, and what do you think will happen if more continue to come throughout the week and there are no more rooms for people to sleep in.”

Stepping between the two Hiroto, held his hands up. “It’s alright. There is no harm in telling them.” The old doctor patted the sheriff on the shoulder. “I’ll tell them.”

Turning away, the sheriff waved for him to continue. “Fine.”

“Sometime after the Japanese/Spanish War (The late 1600s). A group of settlers moved east from the original colonies. Along their travels they found a valley. They say its beauty was unmatched. The birds and the wind sang its majesty. A land unsullied by the violence and hate they had just fled from. A place so beautiful that the men and women who settled there decided on the spot they could no longer live with violence. So, they all laid down their arms, becoming pacifists. A village was erected in its valley. Komorebi. They say a decision was made. “No weapon shall be drawn within its borders.” but…of course peace with the bloody conquerors to the north. It did not last. This village was attacked by barbarians, by The First Shogun of the Colonies, Daito. His band slaughtered many. Nearly destroyed the village and killed nearly every man and boy here.” Pablo shook his head, scoffing. Nodding at this, Hiroto continued. “They were hunting for someone, a warrior who fought alongside The Great Kaijo. They say after the war with the Spanish he was tired of fighting, tired of the death it brought. When Daito finally found him, found this village, and got a hold of the man, all that was left was an old farmer who wanted nothing to do with him or his army. So, Daito rounded up the man’s family, his wife, daughter, even his son and his family.” Hiroto took in a deep breath, “Starting with his grandchildren, Daito’s men executed them going up in age as they did so. Each death, more sadistic than the last. Then when there was none left. They plucked his eyes out and left him bound and tied to a post by his neck. Daito took control over this village, he moved on but his men stayed, celebrating their victory for 7 days. That is actually where our festival comes from. That… Victory.” The old man looked away. “Of course we have done our best to redefine it. Change its meaning, but this celebration is written in blood. This is why you’ll see many such as myself refuse to revel in the festival.” Looked down solemnly, “Anyway, during those first few days of celebration, someone cut free the old warrior, because by the time the men came to collect him on the, he and his family’s remains were nowhere to be seen.”

“Okay, wait. Hold up.” Pablo shook his head. “I get maybe the eye thing, but what does this have to do with…”

“MY HUSBAND.” The widow interrupted.

Holding his hands up, “I know, just… Please.” The doctor gestured for the group to sit back down. “One year after the raid, Daito’s men had officially taken control of Komorebi. A festival to remember their victory was held. Each night leading up to the festival since its announcement; guards, soldiers, those loyal to the Shogun would go missing. Their corpses were found in the forests, hanging from the trees… their eyes plucked from their skulls.”

“The warrior?” The widow whispered.

“Indeed.” Hiroto nodded. “The villagers speculated he had risen from the dead, seeking vengeance on those who dared to celebrate the massacre that took his family.”

“Wait, how’d he see them?” Antonio scoffed. “He had his own eyes plucked, didn’t he?”

“Hate can drive many to do the impossible.” Hiroto nodded.

“It’s also just a story, passed down, a village folk tale. Who knows how true it is.” The sheriff interjected.

“It is true!” The doctor stamped. “It is this village’s history.”

“It’s a story you tell around the campfire to scare children.” The sheriff rebuked.

“Please, what does this have to do with my husband?” The widow looked between the bickering duo.

“Right, my apologies. Where was I?”

“Corpses hanging from trees.” Someone added.

“Right…When Daito left, he put a man in charge named him the Daimyo of this land. This man was the individual responsible for the actual acts carried out on the warrior’s family. Sadistic as he was, this man heard what was happening to his men, and in turn began to push even harder for the festival. Bringing even more soldiers to the village. Of course, this only increased the number of deaths. The warrior hanging even more guards, and villagers who were killed in search of him. All of this came to a head on the first night of the celebration… There are remains, at the top of the hill overlooking the town. It has since been reclaimed by the forest but at one time there stood a temple. When Datio’s men took charge, they claimed it as their own. The first night of the festival The Old Warrior, marched through town, a spirit returning to this earthly plane in corporeal form. As he moved through the village, a few guards attempted to stop him. He cut them down, hardly looking away from the hill. Nobody knows what happened in the temple that night, but there are three things we are certain of. First.” He held a finger up. “A fire started, destroying the entire building in the process. Second, when people finally went up to check, the rest of the Daimyo’s men who didn’t flee lay, slain within the temple’s courtyard. And Third, The Daimyo, swung from the temple’s front gate. His eyes plucked from his skull.”

“So, what does this have to do with her husband?” Antonio stood.

“Well.” The Sheriff chimed. “I think it’s safe to assume someone has taken inspiration from local legend.”

“Have there been others like this?” Pablo asked.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, The Sheriff nodded. “Yes.”

“So, you knew shit like this was happening? And you didn’t do anything about it?” Pablo stepped forward.

“No.” The sheriff put his hands up. “There’s more to it than that.”

“So then explain.” Ernie pressed.

“A couple years ago, I think maybe two, a week before the festival three men, samurai, were hanged in a similar manner.”

Sucking in air, the woman put a hand to her mouth. “Jack.”

“Pardon?” The sheriff stepped back, “What is it.?”

“Jack, he… he served in the army, but… when… When the new shogun stepped into power, he quit. It was very abrupt, and he never talked about why, but Jack was a samurai.” She shook her head. “You’d never know but… You don’t think?” Tears welled in her eyes.

“Well, miss. Was he openly discussing it? Did he say anything that may allude to his former life?”

“Honestly, no. Like I said you’d never know it, and he… He just stopped talking about it all together.”

Placing a hand on his chin, the sheriff nodded. “I see.”

“I know how to lure the killer out.” Pablo stepped forward. Everyone shifted to look at him.

“How?” The sheriff’s eyes widened.

“Hermano. That’s suicide. You can’t do that.” Ernie shook.

“What? What are you gonna do?” Hiroto begged.

“I’ll lure it out.” Pablo “If someone is hunting samurai.” He took hold of the Kitana at his side. “Then it’ll hunt me.”

“No.” The sheriff nodded, “I’m not putting anyone else in danger. We will figure something else out.”

“Then enlighten me, please.” Pablo stepped back, offering an imaginary stage. “I’ve already seen ’em. They were watching me last night.”

“No, I won’t allow it.”

“And I don’t give a shit what you’ll allow.” Taking his hat from the seat it was resting, Pablo put it on, swiping his fingers across the brim as he did so. “I’m killing this samurai hunter tonight. I don’t need your permission.” With finality, Pablo exited the building walking out onto the street, followed closely behind by Ernie and Antonio. “Aye, Mano, you sure this is the best idea, I mean going out there and challenging some lunatic who kills samurai might not be the best move.”

“Tone’s got a point Hermano. You should probably think this one through.”

Turning to face the duo, Pablo stopped, “I don’t know if you two forgot, or if the story has gotten to you two but, we do that.” He looked at Antonio, “Ern and I do that on a somewhat regular basis. Crazies who kill samurai are like our main source of income. But, I’ll tell you what. You two stay here, I’ll be fine.” Turning back around, Pablo continued down the street. “Oye, where are you going? It’s not even like 9:00 o’clock, we still have plenty of daylight.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Pablo called disappearing behind the bustling crowd.

…

Blues and Oranges, peeking through the leaves as they gingerly dance in the breeze. Darkness creeps in as the sunlight falls. The village, his friends and allies, at his back, decay and forgotten pain, to his front. A ring of trees surrounds Pablo, a ring of shadow. Through ruins and shrubs, something watches, and he knows it. “I figured this was a good spot. You know, all poetic and shit.” Pablo waited resting on his knees.

“You will die here samurai.” A faint voice, rasped from behind.

“Oh, hermano, I don’t think so.” Pablo rose to his feet. His right hand crossed over his body, taking hold of the blade hanging to his left. “You ain’t even got a clue as to what I am. I’m no samurai.”

“You reek of blood, the same kind the samurai spill. It matters not how you dress or act.” The hushed voice croaked, “You are samurai enough.”

“Oh? Enough for what?”

“DEATH!” The hoarse voice barked, slashing from behind.

Narrowly dodging the attack, Pablo felt the air behind him rush past as he spun to the right. Drawing his blade in the process, Pablo extended his arm, slashing directly in line with his attacker’s head, but when he turned nothing. Bringing his sword parallel to his eyes, Pablo trailed in a circle examining the tree line.

*Laughter* faint, but everywhere. It surrounded him, impossible to pinpoint. “The darkness works against you. You don’t stand a chance.” The wispy tone got closer. Pablo, turned slashing downward. Again, nothing. A void, darkness, consumed the ruins. “The sun has fallen, and soon you will too Samurai”

“Again. Not a samurai.” Pablo dismissed

“Well, you fight like one.” Just then a slash, cut into Pablo’s side. “A poor one at that.” the voice squawked. Flinching at the hit, Pablo stumbled backward. “Pinche, mearda. You fucker.” he gritted

“Oh, c’mon. It’s not over yet.” The hollow voice mocked.

“I’m going to cut your god damn head off.” Pablo huffed.

“Tut,tut,tut. You must keep a level head if you want to make it out of this.”

*Footsteps*

The sound rushed close to Pablo; he spun, blocking it. Their blades collided. A silhouette, a figure in white, a pale face, flashed in front of him. Then nothing, the figure rolled back into the darkness disappearing from sight once more. “Better.” The voice called from the trees.

Shaking the comment and the pain off, Pablo dropped his shoulders, holding his blade by his side. “Just… Listen…” he told himself. Faint, but noticeable, a shift in movement, leaves rustling, dirt and gravel crunching. Pablo lifted his sword, holding it out in front of himself, catching the blade swinging down in his direction. Shifting position Pablo pressed forward, directing their blades to the side. Using his other hand, Pablo reached for his opponent, grabbing hold. Pablo then pushed his opponent’s blade down, sliding it along his bracer, leveraging it away. Using his sword, Pablo slashed downward. Slicing into his opponent’s stomach. Throwing his attacker back in the process. “There, we’re even.” He sniffed.

Holding his stomach with one arm, the figure hunched over and began to laugh softly. Lifting his head up, Pablo got a better look at his opponent. It wasn’t a pale face at all… “What is that?” Pablo hesitated. The figure stared. A featureless… oval stared back at him. It’s hollow black eyes, the only thing present. The shape of a face without the detail reflecting the moonlight back in Pablo’s direction.

“That’s never happened before, and I’ve been doing this for a long time.” The spectre gleamed.

“Oh?” Unsettled, Pablo tilted his head. Trying his best to appear unphased by the Phantom standing before him.

“Oh yes.” The ghostly figure stood up right, a crimson streak across his glowing white robes.

Resolve flooded over Pablo. He exhaled, warmth returning to his body. “You bleed.” He reassured himself.

“Perhaps you deserve my time after all.” The creature began to circle him.

Never letting him out of sight, Pablo watched carefully, listened as each footfall delicately crunched and scraped into the earth below. Pablo leaped forward, slashing upward; the phantom blocked it, parrying it away. Forcing Pablo’s arms apart and cutting into his chest. Pablo stumbled backwards. “Shit.” He breathed, feeling his chest. Warmth flooded from his wound.

“Or, maybe not.” The ghost’s head tilted. “Bring it, bastardo.” Readying himself, the phantom slashed, Pablo ducked, dropping to the ground he kicked his foot out, cracking into his opponent’s knee. The ghost groaned, dropping down. Using the same foot, Pablo reared it back. Driving the steel point of his boot into his attacker’s skull. A loud snap, the sound of wood splitting shattered out. The wraith rolled over moving with Pablo’s attack. Pivoting until he landed back onto his feet, where he jumped up readying himself for another attack.

Kicking once more, this time off the ground Pablo rolled backward onto his feet. The two stood prepared for the other to strike. Pablo watched his opponent, raised the sword above his head, a call waiting to be answered. “It’s a mask!” He saw the sliver of space his attack had just created. His opponent looked away slightly as if staring at something to his side. “You know, I really think that Bastardos like you are worse than the samurai.”

Tilting his head back towards him, the spirit groaned “Don’t compare me to those murderers.”

“Why not? You’re one. Same as me.” “I’m not!” The spectre charged, with a downward slash. Pablo, side stepped the attack, pivoting. Driving his own blade down, he sliced into his back. Red welling out from the wound, a flower blooming from beneath.

“You are.” Pablo smiled. “Or at least you fight like one.” The revenant laughed, deep and hard this time. But Pablo continued on. “You killed an innocent man last night. Left someone a widow.” You’re no better than the men you hunt.

“What makes you so sure he was innocent.”

Pablo paused, “He gave up fighting. Wanted nothing to do with it. I think that should sound familiar, yet somehow you fail to see the irony in that.”

“What does a tourist know? What does a samurai, who kills for money know?”

“That I didn’t do this for money.” Pablo stepped forward feigning an upward slash but redirecting it halfway through; he slashed horizontally. Slicing through the bits of his opponent’s clothes. “But I’m sure you’d happily accept whatever reward they’d offer.”

Pablo shrugged. “Sure, gladly, but it’s not why I’m here. Fighting you, that’s why I’m here right now.”

The duo stood, swords held above their heads. The spectre darted to the side. Pivoting alongside him Pablo lowered his blade guarding his chest and stomach. Raising his shoulder and dropping his head low Pablo charged into his opponent’s slash. *Clang* The phantom’s blade clashed into the steel paddle fixed to Pablo’s hat. Dropping lower, Pablo angled himself beneath the blade and pushed through with the full strength of his legs. An elk brushing away an attacker with its antlers. Having successfully opened his opponents guard up Pablo drove the blade into his opponent’s chest. Driving it forward, he pushed the phantom off balance.

Looking between the cracked slivers of wood Pablo saw the man beneath. Saw a shocked milky eye gazing in his general direction. “You’re blind?” He whispered. “But not out.” The skewered man, hissed. Driving a knife into Pablo’s ribs.

“Bastardo.” Pablo fell back, loosening the grip on his sword. The two fell in unison, colliding with the earth, at almost the same moment.

Pablo rolled onto his side, watched his opponent do the same. The man’s mask fell, revealing a tired old face. His pale mist colored eyes, looking toward the earth as he attempted to crawl away. The man collapsed, blood leaking from his mouth. “You win.” He rasped one last time before closing his eyes.

Then black. Pablo felt nothing. Not the blood leaving his body. Nothing as coldness took over. No pain. Pablo felt and saw, and heard, nothing.

…

Faint voices, and muffled sounds calling out to someone, calling out to something. Komorebi, the sunlight filtering through the trees… Something returns.

“Sunlight warms my cheek, leaves dance and sway in the sun, I am still alive.”

End of Story 1