When the ninja opened his office door the magistrate rose quickly from his chair, then paused. There was only one door to the office, and his visitor stood silhouetted in it. At a flash he could see the inevitable conclusion, and it saddened him. Nonetheless, he reflected, life must be lived with a proper beginning and a proper end.
He squared his shoulders. "What happened to the guards at the gate?" he inquired.
The assassin bowed his head a fraction of a millimeter in respect. "They fought well", he said.
"And my personal bodyguard?"
The bow was deeper this time. "I shall wear the black haori for him and remember his name in the springtime when we say prayers for the great departed."
"And the south gate?" This was a matter of form, for both knew that they could not arrive in time, even if they were still alive. Still, a magistrate was obliged to look after his people, even when death stood across the room.
Again the bow. "Fine fighters also." Both men knew that he lied, but the ninja recognized and honored the magistrate's concern. He saw no reason to send a man to his grave disappointed with his servants.
There was a pause. Neither man spoke. Sensing the end of that phase of events, the ninja closed the door. He did not bother to lock it.
"Do you need a few minutes to get the affairs of state in order?" he asked.
"Thank you," the magistrate replied, "but I will not need it. The governor appointed better men before me, and he will no doubt appoint a better one after."
The ninja approached. He moved like a snow leopard stalking prey though mountain crags, balanced, smooth, and effortless.
"However," the magistrate said, "I have a correspondence go game that is at a crucial turning point. My opponent has made an outstanding move, and I must reply with one of equal strength."
The ninja paused, and raised an eyebrow. "You expect to finish the game?"
"No," the magistrate said, "we are near the end of the fuseki. Soon thereafter, fighting strength will decide it. I wish to make one more move to complete the fuseki."
Wordlessly, the ninja resumed his approach. He was now more than halfway across the room.
"I am playing white." the magistrate said.
The ninja stopped. The appeal for a final symmetry struck a chord deep within him. "I would be honored to see the game," he said.
The magistrate turned to a mahogany side table where a fine kaya board lay with two bowls beside it, and opened the bowls. The ninja followed, crouching slightly in preparation to duck a thrown lid. The magistrate set the lids aside, and played the first move.
"It started in a rather straightforward manner," he said, "a standard joseki here..." - he snapped the stones on the board smoothly, clicking them with his forefinger - "...he played a novelty here, which I think gave me a slight advantage..."
"If you maintain sufficient ko threats," the ninja interjected.
"You read deeply," the magistate replied, and he placed one stone after another, pausing to show variations that he had rejected.
The ninja watched, following the flow of the game. Despite concentrating on the game, he maintained his awareness of his surroundings as he had been taught at a child. He had been raised to be an assassin first, everything else came second. As a young man, he had learned the game from his master as any warrior should. His master played with an open bottle of saki and a cup next to him. Sometime during the game the master would tip over the bottle, and he was expected to grab the cup and catch the sake in it. He had been beaten if he missed so much as a drop.
He watched the stones as the magistrate laid them out, on one occasion suggesting an alternate line. The magistrate nodded. "You are a man of a keen intellect", he said. He slowed, with a stone halfway to the board, as if something had suddenly occurred to him.
"The governor would employ a man like you if you were interested..." He stopped, noting the sudden glare in the assassin's eyes, and quickly added, "I ask only because he tells me to recruit men of exceptional ability, not that I am suggesting it myself..."
"No warrior would accept such an offer," the ninja said.
The magistrate nodded in assent, turned back to the board, and placed another stone. "Still," he murmured, seemingly absent-mindedly, "some have accepted." He named a ninja who had been the terror of the ten provinces a generation ago.
The ninja smiled depreciatingly. "We heard that he had come this way," he said. "I hoped that I might find him among your guards. It would have been as memorable as your game here."
"Alas, I wish that he had been among them too," the magistrate sighed. "Things might have turned out differently today. But the governor had plans for him other than being a guard here." He played another white stone, and the tension on the board drew both men to it.
"We are nearing the end of the fuseki," said the ninja. He looked at the board, but his posture was still that of a warrior in mid-battle, balanced and flexible; his breathing was in harmony with every movement. "This next must be your opponent's latest move." He glided half a step closer to the magistrate. "Show me," he commanded.
The magistrate reached into the bowl. He slowed, thinking of the prayers for the dead in the springtime, the long lines of solemn men in their black haoris. But life must be finished at its proper time, he thought, and in the proper manner. Then he raised a stone between two fingers, and leaned toward the board.
"I believed that I was ahead at this point," he said. "He is over-concentrated here..." he pointed to one corner, "... and heavy here..." he pointed to another, "...and he still needs a ladder-breaker here." He paused. "But he played this." He laid the stone in the middle of the board.
The ninja stared at the board. The move was a ladder breaker, as any novice might play. But it worked with every black stone on the board. It drew strength from over-concentrated stones, it combined in fluid sabaki with the heavy stones; it brought the full force of every black stone to its peak. It was the most brilliant move that the ninja had ever seen, and he gasped in astonishment.
The magistrate struck.
It was one warrior of great skill against another warrior of great skill; one of perfect balance against another of perfect balance; but it was one with harmonious breathing against one whose breath was slightly out of harmony. And it was over in seconds.
The magistrate strode through the door, and looked around. He spied a servant cowering in the bushes nearby. "Find my chamberlain," he told him, "and tell him to prepare for the funeral of a great warrior." He came back in, and moved the corpse so that its head was aimed to the north. He rearranged the ninja's clothing, covering the injury to his neck, so that an observer would have thought that the ninja was merely sleeping.
Then he knelt by the body, his head bowed in grief. "The governor would have hired you, my friend, just as he hired me. We would have opened the sake bottles, and played some great games together, and never spilled a drop."
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