Finish What You Start

“What’s this kid on about? He’s going to take us over?”
“Boss, that one’s out of his mind, isn’t he?”
“Puts the youngest down once and now he’s riding high.”
“Still, the little punk’s got nerve. I’ll give him that.”

The bandits looked at me and jeered. Some were holding their sides; a few had tears running down their faces. They were having the time of their lives.

Time to spoil the party, then.

I let the corner of my mouth curl and spoke, unhurried.

“Hey. This isn’t the time for laughing. There are soldiers spread out all over outside right now.”

My words cut the laughter dead. I could see the bandits’ faces stiffen, plain as day. The bastards. It was sinking in at last.

“Shouldn’t we be running for it?”
“Hey! He said government troops are spread out at the foot of the mountain!”
“Then what do you want to do! Just get hauled off and die? Not me!”

Word that soldiers had come set the bandits milling about in confusion. While they were all at a loss, Duho raised his voice.

“Quiet!”
“…”
“…”

Silence settled over the hideout. Duho fixed me with a hard stare.

“And how am I supposed to believe you?”
“If you can’t, go outside and see. The soldiers will give you a warm welcome. The magistrate’s got his blood up over catching you lot.”
“…You. What are you, really?”
“I told you. Yang Mujin, Young Master of the Yang manor.”
“Talk straight!”

Duho bellowed at me and let his killing intent pour out. Seeing him hit the roof put me in a good mood.

That temper’s the same now as it was in my past life.

Poke him and he flares up on the spot; there’s a real pleasure in needling him. It was good to see him like this again. Come to think of it, Blood Sand Plain had been bearable, at least, for the years I spent with him. He had a knack for all sorts of things, so there was never a dull moment around him, and for a bandit he knew what loyalty meant.

A smile came to my mouth before I knew it.

“You’re laughing?”

There. Look at that. Needled again, just like that. He flares up at the smallest thing, which makes him a joy to tease.

“Ah, sorry. Something about seeing you just makes me laugh.”
“Has this one lost his mind? Taking us over, and now this — he’s not right in the head. Boys, pick up your weapons. We take this bastard and we go out.”

At Duho’s word the bandits raised their weapons as one.

Did I tease him too hard?

I’d been so glad to see him after so long that I hadn’t held back, and I’d wound him up too far. At this rate I was going to end up fighting the whole gang. Time to leave off the games and get to the point.

“Hold on. Settle down. There’s a way for you to get out of this.”
“And what’s that?”
“Come under me. That’s the only road you have that ends with you alive.”
“Where do you get off pulling that? Just because you’ve got a mouth doesn’t mean you can spit out whatever you like — you could end up dead. We don’t go easy on a man for being young.”
“It’s true. I’ve already settled it with the magistrate. That’s why I came here alone. If you run into the soldiers, every one of you dies.”
“…”

Duho fell silent. I went on.

“You don’t have a choice either way. Don’t come under me, and all that’s left is death.”
“Damn it all. We’re well and truly caught. Fine. We’ll come under you.”

Duho gave his assent in a voice full of bitterness. His head was down, his fists clenched and trembling, his whole body announcing that he could not stand the humiliation. But my eyes were not so easily fooled.

First-rate acting.

It was all a lie. Plainly, the moment this crisis passed, he would watch for his chance and run. The Duho I knew would do exactly that. Which was why force alone would not do for bringing him to heel. I had to win him over.

As it happened, I knew a good way to do it.

— Thunk!

I drove the iron spear into the ground, left it standing there, and took a step toward Duho. Looking him in the face, I made him an offer.

“Man to man, you and me — how about a round of the Bound-Hand Duel?”
“The Bound-Hand Duel? Ha!”

He spat out a laugh, as though the sheer gall of it had taken his breath.

“That kid really has lost it.”
“Tell me about it. Pretty face like that, doesn’t look like he’s ever been in a dogfight.”
“Must have picked it up somewhere. Wonder if he knows he’s hurrying himself into an early grave.”
“It works out for us, though. He said if we win he lets us live.”
“Boss! Take him on!”
“Give him his round!”

Duho’s men pushed for it, evidently convinced they had found a way out with their lives. He brushed them off and asked me.

“Do you even know what the Bound-Hand Duel is, running your mouth like that?”
“Don’t worry. I know it very well.”

Across both my lives, there are probably few who know the Bound-Hand Duel as well as I do. At Blood Sand Plain I settled most of my problems with it.

The Bound-Hand Duel.

Two men clasp hands, the joined hands are wound about with cord, and a dagger is planted in the ground behind each man’s heel. And then it is a duel decided with fists alone, no internal energy. In the constant fighting at Blood Sand Plain, where men lived or died several times a day, nothing settled a winner faster.

I said to Duho.

“If I win, you come under me, and your men do the same without a word of complaint. If I lose, I take it on myself to get you all out of here.”

At that, every eye in the gang turned to Duho. He nodded.

“All right. I accept. See that you keep your word.”
“A man’s word weighs a thousand pieces of gold.¹ I keep my promises.”
“I’ll believe you, then. Boys, get it ready.”

Duho and I stood facing each other. We took hold of each other’s left hand, and one of his men, waiting beside us, wound the cord around and around the joined hands and tied them fast. Then he drove a dagger into the ground behind each of our heels.

Now there was no stepping back. Step back, and you come away with a wound to be ashamed of.

Duho glanced once at the cord binding his left hand to mine, then looked at me as though I were a joke and spoke.

“Call it off even now and let us walk out quietly, and nothing unfortunate has to happen. The Bound-Hand Duel isn’t soft enough for a kid to stand.”

I let out a snort of a laugh and answered.

“Funny, that’s my line. It’s not too late. Say you’ll come under me quietly and you won’t have to be shamed in front of your own men.”
“You—! Ugh.”

His eyebrows twitched and he let out a breath.

Needling him really is a treat.

He must have been furious; his face went redder and redder as he glared at me.

“…Don’t hold it against me. That mouth of yours brought this on.”

Duho ground his teeth as he spat it out. Force poured into the left hand locked with mine. He looked ready to kill me on the spot.

This really is fun.

Memories of scrapping with him at Blood Sand Plain came back to me, my mood lifted, and the corners of my mouth kept climbing.

Hands clasped, we waited for the signal. Duho’s man raised a hand, brought it down, and shouted.

“Begin!”

The instant the word left him, Duho’s right fist flew at my face.

— Fwish!

I tipped my head aside and let it pass. The wind that grazed my cheek was vicious. For a man using no internal energy, the speed was hard to credit.

The attack had missed, but Duho didn’t falter; he hauled roughly on the corded left hand.

An obvious move.

I pulled back with the same hand and kept my balance. The pull was meant to take my stance out from under me, and he telegraphed every inch of it. Instead I used the force of his pull and drove my fist into his side.

— THWACK!

“Kh.”

The blow landed clean and Duho folded at the waist.

“You little—!”

He set his teeth and hammered a string of punches at me.

— Whish! Whish!

His blows split the air. The sound was murderous, but none of them landed. Every one went wide by about a fist’s width. I rode the rhythm of his attacks, swaying at the waist and shoulders, slipping this way and that.

Of course, I couldn’t dodge everything either. In a fight with nowhere to retreat, there were bound to be times I had to take one.

— THWACK! THWACK-THWACK!

When that happened I caught the blows on my shoulder and forearm, or turned them aside. They landed properly enough, but I barely felt the shock.

As time went on the exhaustion told on Duho, and his attacks slowed by degrees. Anyone could see he was blowing hard. He was worked up to the limit now, and his movements grew wider.

When things don’t go his way, he goes hunting for the finishing blow.

It was a habit I’d learned fighting him in my past life. You shouldn’t do that, I keep telling you. Then again, this was before he ever met me, so the old habit would still be intact.

Well. No matter. The way to fix it is simple.

Beat a man half to death enough times and it fixes itself.

Duho hauled the bound left hand toward himself without mercy and in the same motion swung his right fist in a great arc, a blow meant to end things in one.

I didn’t resist; I went with it. Rather than fight his strength, I snapped my upper body down, bending so low I nearly touched the ground.

— Whum!

His fist passed over my head and the blow was gone.

Now it was my turn.

Like a bowstring drawn taut and released, I used the strength of my waist to snap my body up.

— Krrrk.

The sudden wrench of pulling up wrung my muscles, but it was bearable. That was what all the training had bought me. The firewood, the running, every bit of it.

— WHUMP!

A heavy, thudding note rang across the clearing. My fist had struck Duho square over the heart.

“…Gk!”

His mouth fell wide open, his eyes bulging so hard I half wondered whether they’d pop out of his head. It really must have hurt like hell; he couldn’t even get a scream out, his mouth just working open and shut like a carp’s.

Soon the focus went out of them, they rolled back, and his body swayed.

“Hey. Hey.”

I slapped him hard across the cheek, quick about it.

— SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

Duho’s head rocked from side to side. About ten passes back and forth and his eyes opened.

“Haakh — hah — kuhh!”

He dragged in air like a madman. The focus came back into his eyes.

A relief. I’d very nearly sent him to the next world before I could even recruit him.

I gave him time until he was breathing easy again. The trembling in his body slowly settled, and I spoke.

“All recovered? Then it’s on to round two.”
“What?”

His head snapped around to look at me.

“The Bound-Hand Duel isn’t over. Nobody’s called surrender, have they? Or are you scared?”
“Son of a—!”

Furious, Duho threw his fist at me again with everything he had. But I was already braced for it, and I read the line of it. I slipped it easily and put my fist into his chest. Exactly where I had hit him before.

— THWACK!

“Kuhk!”

His body bent like a drawn bow. His knees began to give; I hauled him back up with my left hand. His eyes had rolled back, and he looked about to pass out.

Shame to finish it already.

I slapped him fast across the cheek.

— SLAP, SLAP, SLAP, SLAP, SLAP, SLAP!

His face whipped from side to side.

“Haakh! Kuk! Hkk!”

I’d succeeded in forcing him to hold on to consciousness. I waited for him to come back to himself, then spoke.

“Round three. Begin.”
“Sur— gkh!”

Duho was trying to say surrender; I drove my fist into his solar plexus. The same place as before, again.

In a fight you dig into where your opponent hurts, and hitting the same place twice is an excellent strategy.

I woke him just before he blacked out and hit him again, over and over. The longer it went on, the further the bandits watching from the side edged back, muttering.

“Th-that one’s a complete lunatic.”
“That’s a demon. First time I’ve ever seen a man wake someone up just to keep beating him.”
“He’s going to kill the Boss at this rate. Shouldn’t we stop him?”
“You go stop him. I don’t want anything to do with that one.”
“…The Boss can take a beating. He’ll be fine.”

After dozens of rounds of passing out and being woken.

“Sur… render.”

Only then did I grant Duho his surrender.

It had been a long time since a warm-up this satisfying.