Chapter 4  The Return

1892

The crowd parted silently.

The tall, lean man in the scarlet kimono, and the black-clad men, with their empty eyes and their gleaming samurai swords, filing silently behind him, had never appeared  in this part of town before.

The crowd fell back as they passed, and then surged forward in excitement, whispering among themselves. 

The strangers walked on, and the townsfolk flocked behind them, close on their heels, but not too close, because one could never be sure what these strangers might do.

He saw them first before they saw him.

The huge woman with the narrow beady eyes, and her two companions, sitting on their heels, the queens of their humble turf, in the exact same spot they had occupied all those years ago.

Then they had been silent.

He remembered their eyes, unblinking, like hawks.

He remembered the fear that had paralysed him, the feeling of dread that the sight of these women had evoked in him.

They were almost as he remembered, but older, greyer, frailer.

But unlike that day ten years ago, today they were not silent;  instead, they were noisy, merry, rocking on their heels, slapping their knees in mirth, their cheeks red and flushed from the chatter and the good company of old friends.

Rage swelled in him, and there was a pounding in his head.

He stepped forward.

The women turned and stared up at him.

And this time, unlike that day long ago, he saw something flicker in their eyes.

Fear.

Fear of him.

"I have come for my payment. I have come to collect it today."

"Payment? What payment?" The big woman spoke, while the other two stared at him with confusion in their eyes . "But we do not owe you any money, sir."

"The money that you owed my father, the butcher, and my mother, the butcher's wife."

Light dawned in their eyes. And a rising fear.

"The boy...the butcher's son...you are him."

"Indeed I am," he bowed mockingly. "And I am here today, as I said, to collect my payment."

"We will pay you," the huge woman rummaged desperately, frantically through her clothes, and produced a huge, overflowing pile of coins in her trembling hands. "Take them, take them all. And if they are not enough, we will pay you more, anything you want."

"You do not understand," he said gently, almost kindly. "I have come for my payment. In blood."

With one swift movement, he swung his sword at her two companions.

The two women fell to the ground, dead, one with slit, the other with her belly split open.

He turned to the huge woman.

She fell at his feet, grovelling, clutching at his feet, "Please, sir, be merciful, please, sir, do not kill me."

"I am sorry," she snivelled, grovelling, rubbing her palms together, begging, "I am sorry for everything."

He pondered for a while, studying her, tugging at the stubble on his chin, rubbing his palm over the coarse bristles, as the woman wailed, and moaned, and begged him to spare her life.

"No, I will not kill you. I will spare your life."

She sagged in relief.

"But you have to pay for what you did to my father and my mother. It is only right that you pay."

He nodded at the men.

Two of them grabbed her, one on each side, and hoisted her high, so that she was facing him, both her feet spread wide apart and stretched out straight.

He raised the sword high in his hand. The blade quivered, catching fire in the sun.

He brought it down.

The blade slit smoothly through flesh and bone, slicing off her ankle neatly, precisely.

Her left foot lay on the ground like a broken toy.

She screamed in agony, blood gurgling and spluttering from the grotesque stump.

He swung the sword again at the other ankle.

Her right foot rolled to a stop within a hair's breadth of the dismembered left foot.

He bent slightly, and wiped his sword carefully on the woman writhing on the ground.

"You will from henceforth be a beggar, condemned to crawl on your knees for the rest of your miserable life, like a dog."

"You will live on the streets for the rest of your life." 

"That is how you will live," he spoke softly, almost sadly. "That is how you will live, the rest of your life."

He turned to the townsfolk, slipping his sword into its scabbard. 

They sank back in fear.

"Know me, and know me well; I am Dong Mae, the son of a butcher. Unlike my father, I am not afraid to tell the world who I am. Unlike my father, I am not afraid to cut anyone, and everyone, who crosses me."

"Tell everyone, spread the news near and far, that I have returned."

"The butcher's son has returned."

He turned to his men.

"Burn down this wretched creature's house. Burn it to the ground."

"Burn it, and make her watch it burn."