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◈ The Hunting Genius of the Japanese Colonial Era

Chapter 28

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The Crucial Moment

Back when they had run into it at Neodeolbawi, the beast had backed off after losing the contest of nerve. Now, though, it was nothing like it had been then.

'It's starved.'

It was thinner, quieter, and far more soaked in killing intent.

Its venomous glare slid across the pheasant blood scattered on the ground, the entrails, the birds hanging from the branches, like a blade scoring everything it passed over.

"Grrrrr..."

Drool slipped down between its yellow teeth and wet the dirt.

"H-hiik..."

Kim Tae-yang trembled. A pleading sound crawled out from between his clacking, chattering teeth.

"S-San... let's just give it... huh...? It just wants the pheasants... the pheasants... give them up and run... huh...?"

His voice was crushed flat, like he'd downed a lungful of helium.

Im Baechil chimed in through dry lips.

"R-right, San. If it bites one of us...!"

Han San only kept his cold stare fixed on the wolf. He spoke without pulling his attention off it for even a second.

"No."

"Wh-why not... can't you see those teeth...?"

"Kim Tae-yang."

Han San's voice dropped low.

"Look at the state of that thing. It's gone days without eating. You think it'll be satisfied wolfing down three pheasants?"

And on top of that.

"The village is close. Right here."

If it eased its hunger and recovered its strength on pheasant meat, what would its next target be?

Go Tae-chon's chicken coop finally getting raided by the wolf this time? That would honestly be the lucky outcome. A beast that wouldn't retreat from three grown men—how would it come at the old and the weak?

The situation being different from Neodeolbawi held just as true for their side. Han San couldn't let it go.

"We take it down."

Kim Tae-yang and Im Baechil sucked in their breath. Whether they did or not, Han San was already in motion.

He set a stone shot to his slingshot and fired.

Pang!

The pebble split the air.

"Yelp!"

The wolf shrieked. It twisted its head on instinct, so the shot missed its skull, but—thwack—it took the hit square in the shoulder.

"Huh? Huh huh?"

At the sight of the wolf flinching, Kim Tae-yang and Im Baechil's eyes went wide. They realized anew the obvious fact that even a beast feels pain when struck.

The truth was, if the two of them had charged in and swung their clubs right then, that alone would have settled it. But Kim Tae-yang couldn't think that far, and Im Baechil thought of it yet couldn't act.

As for Han San, he'd never pinned that kind of hope on the two of them to begin with.

So he gave no order like "Now! Hit it!" Telling two raw beginners to throw themselves at a beast from the very start wasn't realistic.

To get someone to carry out a hard order, you first have to give one they can actually follow.

Like now.

"Keep it from coming closer!"

Light flared in both of their eyes. Not attack, but defense. That order matched exactly what the two of them wanted in their hearts.

"Yeah! Got it!"

"Hwaaaah!"

Whoosh, whoosh! The two swung their birch herding clubs wildly. The clubs whipped back and forth, splitting the air, and the wolf, its leg already crippled, couldn't find an opening to dart in and faltered.

With the time bought that way, Han San took his next step.

A second stone shot? The Type 38 infantry rifle?

No.

Han San kicked up the birch stick he'd dragged to his feet and caught it. At the same time he drew his dagger and hacked roughly at the stick's tip.

Chock, chock!

In just two strokes the blunt end of the wood turned to a point.

The dagger's blade, honed razor sharp at home, went dull in an instant, but Han San pressed his lips tight. He'd accept the cost.

He let the stick he'd just made slip a little, then turned only his wrist to grip it again, twisted his shoulder, and drew back.

'A spear throw.'

That was the optimal solution Han San had arrived at in that moment.

"Grrrrr..."

Conflict spread across the wolf's face, which had held nothing but menace.

The wolf recognized Han San, of course. The one who never once took his eyes off it. The same one was now even holding a claw made of wood.

But it was hungry—truly, far too hungry—and it was too late now to tuck its tail. This distance, this leg, that stone shot from before. If it ran, another would come flying, and if it showed its back, that time it wouldn't be able to dodge.

In that case.

"Grrr!"

The human holding the wooden spear, the wolf with its stance lowered—their stares collided, and for an instant the wind in the world stopped.

Then it blew again.

Phat!

The moment the wolf kicked off the ground, Han San's arm split the air too.

The wooden spear flew.

A bare-handed throw with no spear-thrower, but fortunately the distance was short.

"Grrr!"

The wolf, already in its leap, couldn't dodge. It managed only to twist its head aside as before—thwack—and the wooden spear lodged in the same shoulder that had taken the stone.

"Kayang!"

Not a fatal blow. Killing its charge to drop it midair was too much to ask. But it was enough to throw off the line of its lunge, and that was all he needed.

Han San shouted as he leaped sideways.

"Hit it!"

He'd only tossed the words out for now. If the two of them actually charged in and struck, good; if not, so be it.

In the end, these two were not family, and not his father.

In seventy-four years of living, Han San had learned one lesson deep in his bones.

Never, ever entrust the crucial moment to another's hands!

"Cough!"

The wolf, having shot past Han San, thudded and rolled across the bare ground.

Before the dust even settled, Han San yanked the cloth-wrapped stick from his carrying sack and threw himself at the wolf.

He swung.

Crack!

"Yelp!"

The wooden spear buried in its body checked the wolf's movement. Already crippled, struck square on its twisted left leg, the wolf cried out in anguish.

Only then did light kindle once more in the eyes of Kim Tae-yang and Im Baechil, who had been frozen until that point.

"Y-you mangy bastard!"

"Hwaaah!"

The thing had rolled in among the three of them as if into their arms, and since Han San had broken the lead, following him was no burden. Thwack! Crack! Crick-crack! Han San's cloth-wrapped stick and the two birch staffs came hammering down on the wolf.

"Kayayang!!"

A human is a large animal. A weapon is an extension of the arm. Each time the force, multiplied by leverage, crashed into the wolf, flesh split and bone broke.

Their victory was certain now.

And then trouble broke out.

"Kim Tae-yang! Don't get too close!"

"Hahaha! You mangy mutt! You're nothing! Die, die!"

Fear and intoxication melt and blur together in excitement. Kim Tae-yang didn't hear Han San's shout.

Kim Tae-yang could all but see himself bringing down the wolf, the image flickering right before his eyes. Just a little closer, just one deeper swing, and he could strike that head, land the finishing blow...

In that moment the wolf wrenched its body.

"Grrrrr!!"

Even a cornered rat bites the cat—how much more a wolf.

Madness raged in the eyes of the battered wolf. Wringing out its last strength, it snapped its jaws toward Kim Tae-yang, who had come close, springing like a coiled spring.

Kim Tae-yang's club split empty air, and the wolf's teeth, having let the club pass, aimed for him.

"Hyeeek!?"

Kim Tae-yang froze. He went stiff. He felt hot breath against his ankle. The muscle tearing away, the ankle bone crushing, flashed before his eyes.

Im Baechil let out a sound—uh, uh—but by the time he could react, it was already too late.

Han San was not too late.

"Haaat!!"

Han San had already been moving. Before the wolf could sink its teeth into Kim Tae-yang. Even before Kim Tae-yang's club had split empty air.

Even before the very moment he shouted, "Kim Tae-yang! Don't get too close!"—at the instant he began to pronounce the "Kim," Han San was already moving.

Because he knew Kim Tae-yang was a useless punk who wouldn't listen to a word he said? Because he'd foreseen he was a fool dumb enough to bring this on himself and then some?

Those were reasons too, but not the most important one.

Again—it was because you must never, ever entrust the crucial moment to another's hands!

If Kim Tae-yang heeded his words and pulled back, that was best. If the wolf had no strength left to counter and just keeled over, that was good too.

But if the worst moment came, he had to prepare in advance so he'd have room to do something then.

Because, after all—

'When the flood came, I couldn't do a thing!'

The lesson of a mountain man who'd had to grow old after losing his parents saved the ruffian of the Lower Hamlet.

A breath before the wolf's teeth could close, Han San's cloth-wrapped stick smashed crosswise into its head.

Kwang!

The wolf's head snapped back with a crack. From the shattered skull an eyeball burst loose and, for an instant, rolled to face Han San's way, then dropped free, and at the same moment the wolf collapsed.

Its lolling tongue pressed against the dirt, and blood spread beside it like a carpet.

"H-huff... huff...!"

Kim Tae-yang sucked in air, deep, over and over, and landed flat on his backside.

He looked at the wolf fallen on the ground. The wolf with its head burst open, his own unharmed ankle, the wolf again, the [cloth switch] buried in its head.

The instant his gaze traveled up the arm, Kim Tae-yang met Han San's eyes.

"S-San..."

Han San slowly straightened. Blood and brain matter slid down the cloth-wrapped stick and dripped—drip, drip—wetting the ground.

With neither contempt nor anger, Han San simply gazed quietly down at him.

"Hey."

Kim Tae-yang's shoulders gave a start.

The intoxication of moments ago was nowhere to be found; only the feeling of being doused in cold water covered his whole body.

Han San went on.

"You didn't hear me?"

"S-sorry..."

"I asked if you didn't hear me."

"I, I couldn't hear..."

Kim Tae-yang swallowed. With his heart pounding, only then could he finally manage a proper sentence.

"I couldn't hear... I didn't hear it, sorry... sorry, really."

Silence fell.

Han San drew in a deep breath.

He let it out.

Before the sound of that breath, Kim Tae-yang couldn't lift his bowed head. Even Kim Tae-yang, with ten mouths, would have had nothing to say.

If not for Han San, by now his leg would have...

"Your leg."

"Uh, huh?"

Lifting his head, Kim Tae-yang realized Han San was no longer looking at his eyes but down at his ankle.

Han San raised one eyebrow.

"Your leg. You're not hurt?"

"Ah... uh, yeah! It's fine... fine."

No—was it actually fine? Kim Tae-yang suddenly lost his confidence. The feeling of the wolf's breath on him was still vivid. Below the waist there was a little, no strength would come...

Luckily there was one more person on the scene.

Wararak! That was the sound of Im Baechil hastily dropping to his knees.

Bending his mountain of a frame, Im Baechil checked Kim Tae-yang's ankle. Over and over. And finally let out a breath of relief.

"It-it's okay, San... Tae-yang's ankle, it's fine. Nothing happened. He didn't get bitten."

Han San drew in a deep breath again and let it out. The meaning of this sigh was a little different.

"Thank goodness."

At those words Kim Tae-yang's face went red. Again, even Kim Tae-yang has nothing to say in a situation like this.

He barely managed to put the one thing he could into words.

"Thanks..."

Han San snorted a laugh.

"Forget it, punk. Next time keep your head on straight, would you. Damn, like you're some kid... no, you are a kid, come to think of it."

"I-I am not!?"

"Like hell you aren't, punk. A brat who hasn't even hit eighteen, puffing away on cigarettes and downing booze. Honestly, you punk, really..."

At the sight of Han San's disgust, Kim Tae-yang's face went redder still. Unable to argue back, he just rubbed his perfectly fine ankle for no reason and looked away.

Im Baechil looked at Han San with admiring eyes.

'San... he's a grown man.'

Even up through the slingshot business, he'd thought the skill was impressive. But this movement now, this judgment—that could no longer be explained by skill alone.

There was the weight of experience to it.

Im Baechil had privately harbored a refusal to accept Kim Tae-yang's words that "what makes an adult isn't age but acting like one," but now it was different.

When you actually see a grown man act like a grown man, you really do come to understand that age is just decoration.

That grown man let out a light sigh, drew his dagger, and spoke as he stepped toward the dead wolf.

"Alright, alright. Let's all move fast. Dawdle around and the smell of blood will draw the others in."

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