“If you do not do,” says Master, “still you have done.”
I grow tired of this. He sees me frown.
Master smiles.
I am a warrior. A Samurai.
“If you do not teach,” I smirk, “still you have taught.”
His brows come together, questioning. His head is cocked. His hand clasps my wrist and squeezes.
He holds my gaze. His thumb presses.
My blade drops and lands softly on the rushes.
“Were you a true Samurai,” he lectures, “you would have faced me fairly.”
I taste steel, then blood.
“You would be Rōnin?” he hisses.
The Only Good Rōnin by Adam Francis Smith
Posted: April 11, 2016 by Shade's Progress in Adam Francis Smith, Feudal JapanTags: 100 word story, attack, blood, dead, death, Feudal Japan, flash fiction, master, microfiction, Ronin, Samurai, scrawl brawl, short story
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