text: The sylvan atmosphere and the lengthy climb made Jiro less cautious than was his wont. He had not drunk any water in some hours. His breakfast had been bracken shoots, some wild berries, and a single delicious pine mushroom. The sound of a stream penetrated his consciousness. A ridge of rocks barred the path, and he started to clamber over it.
  
  His attackers, fortunately, were less cautious than they should have been. The first yamabushi leapt with a yell from the heights of a rock that bordered the path. Jiro pulled back from the sword blade that stabbed at his side. He twisted desperately, and a stone rolled out from under his foot. He slipped to the ground, and the sword hissed over his head. His rolling body tripped the second yamabushi, and they both slid down the path.
  
  Jiro recovered first. He rose to his feet, and his great sword arced from its scabbard. He paused to collect his wits, his head still ringing from its contact with the stones of the path. He cut down, but the yamabushi managed to roll away. The other man advanced from above, his sword ready. Jiro slid forward and thrust with both hands. The yamabushi parried effortlessly, but Jiro's move was a feint. He slipped sideways, reversed his sword, and thrust under his left armpit. The second yama-bushi, who had silently rushed him from behind, grunted as the long blade stuck into his abdomen. Jiro released the long sword and drew the short blade from his sash. The yamabushi yelled and charged, expecting his longer blade to give him an advantage. The other yamabushi grunted in agony and slid forward onto the sword, which hit the ground and drove itself further into his body.
  
  The charging yamabushi's blade whistled down. Jiro's hand, held stiff and flat, rose parallel to the blade and deflected it. He cut at the yamabushi's torso, and his blade stuck into the man's hip. The mountain man checked his charge. He made a convulsive leap backwards and rose through the air, to land on a jutting rock. Well out of reach he panted heavily as Jiro retrieved his long katana blade. His panting changed to a scream of agony as Jiro's short blade grew from his belly. The yamabushi looked down in horror at the hilt of the short sword protruding from his belly and toppled forward off the rock. The last sound he heard was the whistle of Jiro's long sword as it cleaved the air.