Beasts of a Little Land(6)
“Even if we kill the tiger, that will be the end of us if we get stuck in the mountain for another night, and it being already colder than the night before . . . so says this man, sir.”
Major Hayashi looked around at his men, who looked defeated and unwilling to go deeper into the mountain after the enormous beast. It had shown no sign of slowing down even with the wound.
Hayashi had led not only hunting parties such as this one, but also combat on the field, most recently in Manchuria against the Russians, and then of course the control of unrest and rebellions in Korea. He had never turned back from a fight but not out of bravery, which he equated to foolishness. He only believed in success, and even his bloodthirst was only secondarily for his own pleasure—primarily it was to assert his superiority to his peers and to intimidate his subordinates. Since success, to Hayashi, was of practical rather than virtuous nature, he again decided on the course that would serve him best. He ordered the Josenjing hunter to lead the descent.
Even as they made their way down and away from the beast, they felt as though a pair of yellow eyes were fixed on their necks the entire time. But at last they found themselves on a trail, recognizable even under a foot of snow. A few hours later, they came out of the deep woods and onto the overlook where they could see the village down below. The straw-thatched roofs were glowing amber with an unexpected flash of the sun, finally breaking through the clouds just above the horizon.
If they hadn’t been officers, they would have run down the slippery, snowy slope like children, overjoyed as they were by that sight. But tempered by the presence of their leader, they marched only a little faster. It took another half an hour before the men finally reached the foot of the hill where the village farms met the border of wilderness. The fallow fields under a blanket of snow were stamped with the footprints of birds and of children.
Major Hayashi ordered a halt and discussed something with the police chief, an oily and gluttonous man to whom a few days of hardship had given a temporarily gaunt appearance. The other officers laid down their packs and began smoking, chatting lightheartedly. They had already forgotten the terror, and were exhilarated by the prospect of warming themselves with food and fire, laughing over it all.
“You,” Captain Yamada called out to the hunter, who cautiously stepped closer to Baek. “Your name.”
“My name is Nam KyungSoo,” the hunter said in halting Japanese.
“You were in the Korean Imperial Army?”
Baek translated for Nam, who nodded.
“You know it’s illegal for Josenjings to possess weapons of any kind? I could have you arrested right now.”
Baek looked mortified as he whispered in Korean to Nam, who merely glared back at Captain Yamada. The officer frowned back at the hunter. The two men couldn’t have been more different: one, dressed in a warm officer’s outfit and a fur-trimmed hat, handsome and lithe and bursting with energy even after three hard days in the forest; and the other, shorter man, sharp cheekbones casting dark shadows on his face, hair with more gray than black, looking as ancient, weathered, and bony as a rock.
But even so, Yamada momentarily saw something in the other man’s eyes. Soldiers on opposing sides are much more alike than different, often resembling one another more closely than they do their respective civilians. Despite his mangy appearance, Nam looked like he would kill his enemies and protect his allies; Yamada respected that.
“I’m confiscating your weapons. If I ever hear you’ve been hunting again, I will arrest you personally. Consider that your reward for leading us back down.”
Baek relayed the message while bowing deeply at the young officer. Yamada gave a curt nod in acknowledgment, but Nam only glared back for a moment before turning away.
“Hey, Baek!” Major Hayashi called out, and the old merchant shuffled forward.
“Yes, sir.”
“You led us astray, you stupid worm,” Major Hayashi said, almost lazily. Baek cowered and kept his head bowed low.
“I’m sorry sir, the snow covered the trails and made it impossible to find them, I’ve gone up and down these mountains hundreds of times, but . . .”
“You ruined our hunt, and almost got us killed,” Major Hayashi said. “Go. I’d run fast if I were you.”
Baek trembled, dipped his head multiple times, and turned on his heels to run as quickly as his old body would allow. When he had nearly crossed the length of the rice field, Major Hayashi slung his rifle over his shoulder—and fired.
Baek fell forward as if he’d tripped on a rock, his arms splayed wide. He didn’t make any noise—or perhaps it was too far for the sound to carry, muffled by the icy ether. The blood spread slowly from the center of his back and soaked through his pack filled with silk.
“That made up for the lack of real sport, what do you think, Chief Fukuda?” Major Hayashi asked, and Fukuda agreed obsequiously.
“And as for that man Nam, I’ll turn him over to you, since this is your jurisdiction.”
“Ah yes, of course. We will make a very good example out of him,” Fukuda said. “After we are done with him, no one will dare pick up a weapon again in these parts.”
“That doesn’t seem called for, Chief.” Captain Yamada stepped forward. “This Josenjing led us down from the mountain. We wouldn’t have made it otherwise.”
“You also saved his life, so I’d consider that even. But add to that his poaching—seems the scale is tilted against him,” Fukuda said, smiling as if satisfied by his own cleverness.