“Jump, dog!” the young Samurai shouted in sudden anger; “jump before I kick you!”
For answer Soichi turned and without a word slapped him smartly across the mouth with the flat of his hand.
A moment Kokan stood like one turned to stone. It was as if the blow had paralyzed every faculty, not by its force but by its shock. Then in wild fury he sprang forward, his hands outstretched as if to clutch and tear to pieces the boy who had dared to strike him. Soichi was ready. In strength and stature he was quite a match for his frantic antagonist; but it needed no force to meet that furious rush. Swifter than sight his hands went forward, caught the arms reaching out to seize him, and with a single twitch hurled the Samurai boy bodily over his head. Then like a cat he whirled to meet a new attack. It was a trick he had often played on the practice mats of the gymnasium, where not in vain had he worked that year with the master of jiu-jitsu.
Hurled the Samurai boy bodily over his head.
Dazed by the force of his fall Kokan struggled to his feet, mad with rage. Fortunate then for them both that the wearing of swords was no longer the Samurai’s privilege, else Soichi would have been killed in his tracks. But if passion had blinded Kokan, his friends could still see, and before another wild rush should give Soichi a second opportunity they had seized both boys and held them apart. In another moment the master, who from the doorway saw and heard it all, had reached them, and discipline was beginning to work.
“He insulted the Emperor and I struck him,” said Soichi calmly, when they examined him. “If I had had a sword I should have cut him down.”
“What?” said the master, “insulted the Emperor!”
“It is false!” cried Kokan, restored to outward calm, but with heart burning with hatred. “I did not!”
“He called me Eta,” retorted Soichi, “and the Emperor has decreed that there are no more Etas.”