The boy's eyes flew to Tora's face. "What do you mean?" he cried, his eyes wide and angry and his fists clenched.

Tora glanced down at the outraged little lord. "Oh, sorry." He grinned, not at all intimidated by the boy's ferocious expression. "I forgot you're one of them. Anyway, that's what I thought then. My master turned out to be a good man. In fact, he's not really much different from us ordinary people. Maybe you, too, will grow up to be like him."

The boy opened his mouth to protest, but decided to think this over. After a moment, he asked, "What makes you hate the good people so much?"

"The 'good' people, you call them?" Tora gave a derisive laugh. "The 'good' people took my parents' farm and my parents starved to death, while I was away fighting the 'good' people's wars for them."

"That must have been terrible," said the young lord, "and I am very sorry for you. But surely such things rarely happen in this country. I know all of our own peasants are very happy on our lands."

"And how would you know that? You're just a kid and live in the capital. You have never lived like one of your peasants. Where I come from back east, a lot of farmers have had the same kind of thing happen to them that happened to us. They work the fields from sunrise to sunset, planting, tending and reaping. They grow rice, millet, hemp and beans, and just when they think they got enough to make it through the winter, the tax man comes and takes half of it for the lord. And when they go back to the fields to grow some winter vegetables to ease their hunger, the lord needs a pond in his garden, and he sends for the poor farmer to dig it. Then he wants a mountain moved to the pond, and guess who'll do it? Then roads must be built, and the lord wants a fine temple erected to honor his ancestors. All the while the farmer is working for the lord, his wife and children starve and tend the fields. And when the farmer finally gets home, the lord starts a war and the farmer has to report for duty with a halberd and whatever armor he can afford to buy. And while he's away fighting, another lord's soldiers come and kill his family and burn down his house." Tora broke off, breathing heavily. Belatedly he recalled his companion and looked at him anxiously. But young Lord Minamoto was staring into the distance.

The boy was silent for a long while. Then he said solemnly, "You do not understand. Someone has to look out for the common people. We are raised to take care of the peasants, just as the peasants work for us. It is a fair exchange. We fight wars to protect you people, and we die for you in battle. We also plan for your future by storing grain for bad years, and we administer the law, catch criminals and keep good order among you. And building a temple is for the good of all people, as are the roads."

Tora stopped, placed his large hands on the child's frail shoulders and said, "A fair exchange, is it? Look around you! Whose life is better? Who has plenty of food? Who rides the horses and carriages instead of walking? Who wears the silken clothes? Who can afford many wives and concubines? Who has time for hunting and games and silly poems?"

The boy shook off Tora's hands angrily. "You are blind!" he raged. "You only see things your way! You've never been a lord. How would you know our troubles?"

Tora nodded. "You got me there. You know, you're pretty smart for your age. By the way, how old are you?"

"I am in my eleventh year, but age has nothing to with it," the boy snapped haughtily. "I know such things because, unlike you, I have been raised to use my intelligence."

"Ah," said Tora, keeping his face straight, and looking thoughtfully up at the floating clouds. "In that case, you should have no trouble building your own kite, my lord." With an exaggerated bow, he presented the bundle of paper and string to his lordship. "I am supposed to take care of some other business anyway."

The boy put his hands behind his back. "I do not carry bundles like a common person. You carry it. Besides, your master has ordered you to teach me."

Tora laid the bundle on the ground between them. "You remember asking me if I liked my master?" When the boy nodded reluctantly, he said, "Well, the reason is that he treats me with respect. I can leave any time I want to, and if I decide to work for his mother- who is a terrible old woman, by the way- I do so because I want to. In the same way I agreed to help you build a kite because I wanted to. But it is clear you don't want me."

"That is not true!" The boy's anguished protest hung between them for a moment. Then the little lord turned away and started walking, his shoulders drooping and his eyes on the ground. Tora watched him for a while, then snatched up the bundle and followed.

At the gate to the university he lengthened his stride and caught up. "All right," he said. "This time I'll forget it, but don't do it again. Friends don't talk like that to their friends."

The boy's pale skin turned a deep red. He nodded wordlessly. They proceeded towards the dormitories and sat down on the veranda. Tora undid the bundle and checked the contents. He frowned and said, "We forgot the knife. Got to have a knife. Come, let's go borrow one from the cook."

"That fat, filthy animal?"

Tora nodded. "I see you've met. Yes, him. Unless you happen to have a knife?"

"No, but I have a sword." The boy disappeared into his room and returned carrying a long package wrapped in lustrous red silk and tied with gold-trimmed white silk cords. Unwrapping this carefully, he produced a beautiful sword in a wooden sheath covered with gold-dusted lacquer and inlaid with mother-of-pearl birds in flight. He drew the slender blade of blue-black steel by its hilt, which was heavily ornamented with silver and gold chrysanthemums and bees. This he extended to Tora. "Here!"

Tora looked at the sword, then at the child. He knew the weapon was a family heirloom, something that is passed from father to eldest son, and kept enshrined on the family altar. He had never seen anything so beautiful, and jerked his hands behind his back. "I can't touch that," he said. "It is much too fine. You should not offer it to people to use for cutting bamboo and paper."

The boy nodded. "I know that. But you said you were my friend. And… and I have nothing else to offer you. You may use my sword, Tora."

Tora's face broke into a smile. "Thank you, my friend," he said with a bow.

The little lord smiled shyly. "My friends call me Sadamu."

"Thank you, Sadamu." Tora wiped his hands carefully on his robe and accepted the sword. "It is very beautiful, and I appreciate your allowing me to hold it and look at it." He turned it this way and that, tested the sharpness of the blade with his thumb, performed a few slashes at the air, and then replaced it in its sheath and returned it with another bow. "We will get a knife from the cook. Your ancestors would be upset if we misused this fine weapon."

The cook, who was seated on the floor of the kitchen, resting his broad back against a barrel, greeted Tora with a grin which faded when he saw Lord Minamoto. "Thought you'd come for another game," he muttered. "I've been practicing."

A bowl stood in the middle of the floor, surrounded by heaps of coins, pebbles, radish heads, beans, stale rice dumplings and other unidentifiable kitchen waste. The cook's assistants rushed about doing their chores, giving him and the bowl a wide berth.

"Some other time," said Tora. "I came to borrow a knife. We're making kites."

"Ho, ho. Kites, is it? For a moment I thought you needed protection against murderous maniacs like that Rabbit. But they got him safely locked up. That'll be the end of him, strangling girls in the park! I always knew he'd come to a bad end. Why, remember the day you and I caught him beating up poor Haseo? He could have killed both of us, if you hadn't been along." He cocked his head and thought a moment. "You'll ruin my knife, cutting bamboo," he said, "but in gratitude for saving my life, I'll let you have one." After shouting an order to one of his men, he turned back to Tora. "I hear your master's been to see Rabbit in jail," he said. "Tell him he's wasting his time. Haseo's been to the police and told them all about Rabbit and the girl. Did you know they used to meet on the sly and they argued the very day he killed her?"