Sakura was a dancer, not a swordsman, but even she could tell this fight wasn’t going in a good direction for the mage. She wanted to scream, tell him to watch out, or to yell out a command to take the samurai down.
That last part seemed unlike her. She wanted to escape, for her parents to escape, but right now she felt more concern for the mage’s safety than the fate of everyone in the room.
Beside her, stood her mother and her father. Hitomo was watching the fight intently, the look on his face she knew well. The one he had when he was worried.
“He’s dead,” a stranger in the group declared.
She looked to her father, who met her gaze. He said nothing, turned back to watch the fight. She knew he thought the same, and a samurai himself, she had little doubt he was wrong.
This can’t be, she thought. He came here to save us!
“He’s not going to die!” Sakura shot back, glancing toward the pessimistic fool.
“How’s that?”
“You’re a dancer, aren’t you?” another asked.
“Do you know anything about sword fighting?”
“Give him a chance,” Sakura said to the doubters, “because he’s the only one we have. There has to be something we can do to help.”
“Such as?” The man who had declared Lawrence dead said. He glanced toward her, but he didn’t seem to care about her rebuke to himself or the rest of them.
Without the mage, how would they get out of here? They had no weapons and only two fighters among them now that Umo was…
She couldn’t think about that.
Lawrence-san continued to side step, occasionally moving in for a quick counter attack, but the huge samurai parried his attacks every single time, and when he came in for his own, it seemed all the mage could do to keep his opponent from cutting his head off.
“You’re right, Sakura,” Tomiichi said. “There has to be something we can do!” The gate captain knotted his free first while he held Yoko close with his other hand.
“Perhaps,” Hitomo said in a sort of half sigh, “we can create a distraction.” Her father’s suggestion seemed half-hearted.
“But what good would that do?” Kaiya asked as she gestured toward the fight in the courtyard, her hands moving about forefully. “He can’t even seem to take that one samurai down. Even if the rest break away to deal with us, we’re lost.”
Sakura didn’t want to say it, but her friend was right, and so were the rest of them. But we have to do something, right?
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Someone behind her cleared his throat. Sakura turned and found a horned man with red skin sitting a few paces behind her.
“I may be able to assist with that.”
Somebody from the crowd snarled an epithet against the oni.
Sakura made a noise of exasperation. “Enough! If he can aid us, then let us hear him out.”
“What could one oni possibly do to help?” the first doubter asked.
“Let him speak,” Hitomo said. “We have no plan and no options. If the mage down there can’t do something,” he gestured to the window, “then we have no hope of escape.”
“So?” the man—clearly an out of touch noble—asked. “We’re prisoners of war. I’m sure we’ll be treated with the due respect we deserve.”
“Are you mad?” Tomiichi asked. “Weren’t you there when they cut half the royal court down in their attack?”
“I’m so confused,” Kaiya said. “I thought the attack was from a foreign power, but now the samurai on the ground down there look like they’re from house Sakuraichi.”
Hitomo nodded. “Hmm. It seems so, doesn’t? Something is amiss.”
“Quite clearly, old man.”
“Show my father respect!” Tomiichi snapped. “He was fighting Emperor Aiechi’s wars while you were still at your mother’s breast!”
“How dare you speak to me this way, you common riffraff!”
Kaiya rubbed her eyebrow with her fingers. “Ugh! Please…”
Yukio’s mouth went wide. Her mother was not one to endure slights like that. “Riffraff? How dare you, sir! We are noble born. We have samurai in our family.”
She moved to display her husband and son as some mothers would do, but Hitomo simply raised a hand for peace. “This bickering is getting us nowhere.” He turned to the haughty man, who was evidentially a noble. Either that or he was an actor in the theater she had never seen. “If you have a plan, tell us.”
“We do nothing.”
“Nothing?” Sakura asked. The man was a sniveling coward without an ounce of dignity. “You’re welcome to stay here.”
“Don’t talk to me like that!” he snapped. “Are you an uncultured whore to speak to your betters this way?”
Sakura barely saw what happened.
People gasped. Some women yelped, and then the man was suddenly on the other side of the room. He had… She blinked. He had shot backward, fell on the wooden floor and rolled about in a heap several paces past the oni.
The red-skinned oni in question had his fingers pinched together as though he were holding a large invisible ball, his elbow cocked back as if he had pulled on something.
“Did he…?” Yumiko asked, but Sakura barely heard her.
“Are you a magicker, oni?” Tomiichi asked. “A mage?”
“Disgusting,” somebody muttered.
“To treat one of the court so…”
The oni ignored whoever made the slighting comments. “I do possess… certain… magical ability… some might say.”
Sakura glanced toward the unconscious man who had insulted her. “I’m certain that was called for.”
“Can you get us out?” Hitomo asked.
Sakura glanced back toward the windows, but she was too far to see the grounds below right now. It seemed everyone had completely forgotten about Lawrence down there, fighting for his life after coming to rescue them. “What about Lawrence?”
Everyone turned to her.
“Who is Lawrence?”
She gestured forcefully to the window. “The mage that came to rescue us?”
“Oh yes,” the oni said. “Well… I’m not entire certain about his potential for rescue… however… I may be able to save us… should we work together… put aside our… differences.” He spoke in a breathy, ponderous way. He was very strange.
“Yes!” Yumiko said, stepping forward to Hitomo’s evident surprise. “Do what you can, oni!”
“Very well…” the oni said. “But first… my name… it’s not ‘oni.’”
Sakura rolled her eyes, feeling a strong tinge of frustration. She wanted to lash out. Demand that they try to save the mage who came to rescue them. But in the end, what could they really do?
She went to the window, cast her eyes down at the man fighting for his life.