Torches streamed across the center of the bridge, those behind following those ahead.
People on the shore were still moving onto the bridge deck, where the Broken Mirror lay wedged in the gaps.
There were still gaps between the planks. Someone stepped onto one, and it creaked.
The man looked only ahead. Someone shouted from the other end of the bridge.
"The money's on the boat."
One group turned and crowded toward the boat. Those in front already had their hands on its gunwale.
A few had already stepped onto the shallows.
Someone dragged a bridge cable out of the water and flung it onto the deck.
Another group stopped midway across the bridge and crouched to feel the cable.
Axes rose and struck the cable again and again. It rang under the blows but would not break.
The remaining group headed straight for the bridgehead, each man charging on his own.
Each group focused its efforts on one place. Everyone coming had something in his hands.
Knives, axes, sharpened wooden sticks. A few men were bare-chested.
A layer of darkness still hung over the sea. Over by the beach, boats crowded together.
The men in the lead were not walking fast.
The sounds on the bridge narrowed to the stretch beneath their feet.
Kiyoshi listened to those sounds. Here at the bridgehead was the area for the wounded.
The wounded lay on the planks, groaning once, then resting.
The two bodies still lay where they had been. No one had moved them.
Gato still lay at the center of the bridge, money scattered beside his hand.
Zabuza still leaned against the railing, his head bowed.
A Tung Oil Barrel lay tilted beside the bridge pier. The work crew had packed up in a hurry and had not had time