Between Gods and Gentlemen

“Spare a few coins? C’mon, just a few mon? Buy a drink for a guy who’s down on his luck.” Placing a hand on the man in the blue robe’s shoulder, the beggar accosted him further. “Hey pal, help a friend out?”

The blue robes produced a few coins, sliding them on the counter and waving the man away, hoping to now enjoy his drink in peace.

The beggar pawed them into his clutches, bowing and retreating. “Oh thank you sir. Bless you. You are so kind.”

“Just buy a drink already so you can start filling that mouth with alcohol instead of words.” The other man sighed.

“Of course, of course.” He nodded again, sliding his hand off the blue-robed man’s shoulder and turning to the person sitting next to him. “What about you sir? Would you care to ease your mind and give into karma? Help someone less fortunate out?”

The man with the tied-back hair didn’t acknowledge the beggar beside him. Bringing the hot sake to his lips, he sipped his drink, acting as if he was alone in the bar.

“Just a few more mon and I can enjoy a drink with you!” The beggar placed his hand on the man’s shoulder and leaned in closer. “The gods will grant you good luck and— oh my, those swords! You must be samurai!”

The beggar snapped his hand back, cringing as he waited for a reaction. To his surprise, he continued to be ignored.

He decided to test his luck. “Certainly a great samurai could spare a few coins. Those blades you have are certainly not cheap by any means, but what samurai would spare any less with his tools? Surely you could loan a few coins to one so much lesser than yourself?”

Ever hopeful he waited as the samurai took another sip and placed his clay cup on the bar. His form still hunched over, only paying attention to his drink. After a few more moments, the beggar sighed and turned to walk away, his hand brushing the samurai’s side.

The tied-back hair twitched and a hand shot out, grabbing the beggar’s wrist and pulling it up and away from his waist.

“Hey! What? Whoa!” The greasy haired beggar shouted.

Turning, the samurai’s gaze stared down the man. His cold eyes piercing the beggar before looking to the hand held high, grasping onto a small bag of coins.

“Oh this? Sometimes you have to help yourself. No harm done right?” The thief nervously released his hold on the coin bag, tossing it on the bar. “See,” he opened his palm towards his captor, “we’re square?”

The samurai’s eyes went wide. He slammed the thief’s wrist against the bar, the cup tumbling over with the shock and spilling onto the counter. A swift motion brought a wakizashi to the quivering thief’s throat. The air was silent as the attention of the other patrons was now turned to the samurai with an unsheathed blade.

“Pu—please don’t hurt me.” The thief shuddered with a gulp, feeling the edge of the blade press against his skin. “I—I mean no harm, just looking for some coins. A worthless piece of scum like me is not worth dulling your blades on. Spare my life, please!”

The samurai pushed his thumb down the man's wrist, running over the black marking etched there. Reading the symbol 神 – God, he withdrew his sword and let go of the arm. The released man stepped back, panting and bowing low.

“Your mark is not the one I am looking for.” The samurai sat back down, grabbing his coin bag and attaching it to his belt. He returned his cup to its upright position and placed a few mon next to it. “Tell me, why would a thief have the symbol of god on his wrist?”

The thief’s shoulders slumped, gaze shifting about looking for perked ears. “We must do what we must to survive. Through all I have endured, the gods continue to provide for me and watch over me. They have just saved my life have they not?”

“I suppose they have,” the samurai murmured as he watched the bartender wipe up the spill and fill the cup back up.

“What…” The thief paused, pondering whether to take his good fortune and leave or give in to his curiosity. He bit his lip and swallowed hard. “What is it a samurai is looking for? What mark on a man would bring such fury upon him?”

Taking a sip of the freshly poured sake, the samurai swished the liquid in his mouth and swallowed before answering. “I search for the man who killed my wife.”

The thief took a step back. “W—w—what happened?”

The samurai sighed and closed his eyes. “It was late spring. I had returned from travelling, it had been over a month since I had seen home. She had patiently waited for my return, only to fall the day I came back.” He took a long sip and slid another few mon on the counter to the bartender. “I found her in the garden. The killer had just left as she still had life when I found her. Her body lay limp on a bed of blossoming white lilies with one flower placed on her chest.”

“On a bed of white lilies? A single flower?” The thief’s eyes went wide. “The white flower killer!”

“But wait,” the man in blue robes interrupted, “aren’t the victims of that killer usually seduced first? Picking up lonely women looking for—”

The tied-back hair flicked harshly as the samurai shot the man a glance.

“My apologies dear samurai, I have been drinking. Forgive my loose tongue.” The blue robes gulped and raised an open hand of surrender. “The authorities have been unsuccessfully trying to catch him for a while now. They’ve kept most information to themselves, how do you think you'll fare any better?”

“So far all that is known to the public is that a single white flower is left on the body before leaving. But if you’ll remember our friend's marking on his wrist, I know that the killer has his own marking. When I found my wife laying on her deathbed, she had not fully passed. Gasping for breath and holding on, she waited my return to tell me one detail about him. She whispered in my ear that he had the mark of a gentleman. It was with her last breath in which she told me this before dying in my arms.”

The man in the blue robes coughed on his drink. “So you're just going to go check everyone’s wrist everywhere you go? How ridiculous! That man could be anywhere, and what if someone else has the same marking?”

“Do you… Does this… wait…” The thief stuttered in confusion. “The flower killer is around here? Is that what’s brought you here?”

The samurai placed his cup back on the bar. “I believe he lives nearby.”

The blue robed man shook his head. “Preposterous! The flower killer has never struck this town, and there are no lotus blooms here in—”

His words hung in the air. The man’s shock remained frozen on his face as his head fell from his shoulders and hit the floor. The flash of steel had not registered with those around until after the samurai had cleaned and sheathed his blade. It was the thief who screamed first. The body in the blue robes slumped over the bar.

“It does not seem like he will need his coins back. You may as well keep them.” The samurai patted the thief on the shoulder as he walked past. “Perhaps the gods are watching over you.”

The rest of the patrons at the bar began to stumble over one another as they raced out of the building, reeling from the spectacle of the samurai’s sword. Staring in horror at the headless body on the bar, the thief saw a shimmer of white in the sleeve of the blue kimono. His shaking hand pulled the cloth back causing a white lotus to fall from its hiding place. Grasping the still warm wrist, he turned it over in his hand. A gasp escaped his throat as he dropped the limb and ran out of the bar. The arm fell back against the bar, palm up, showing the black marking etched into the flesh. 紳 - Gentlemen.