“Was it the others?”
“Wait. I heard the sound of arms, of steps, of voices. Little by little the tumult drew nearer. It came from all sides. It filled the woods. And the young warrior also heard it. He rose slowly to his feet, and stood immovable, leaning against me listening.
“Suddenly a voice shouted, ‘Haiya, Hay!’ a kind of hurrah. A hundred voices from every side called ‘Haiya!’ and the first said, ‘Come, I have found traces of his blood! Let us follow it! Hay!’
“The other voices howled, ‘Haiya’ with so much eagerness and satisfaction that I thought they were all friends and followers of this unfortunate young man, happy to find him to save him, and care for him. So little did I know about men.”
“And weren’t they friends?”
“Far from it! The first voice said, ‘He can’t escape us any longer! He is our prisoner!’ The others echoed, ‘He is ours. Haiya!’ They were enemies looking for him, do you understand? He heard them. He knelt down and bowed his head calling on Amaterasu, the god of the sun, the god who made Japan. Then he took off his armour and bared his chest, which was covered with blood, and put his hand to his side to find the hilt of his sword. I saw at once that he didn’t wish to fall alive into the hands of his enemies, and I decided to save him.”
The Haji Saves the Warrior