Samurai Son (35 page)

Masako fastened her dark eyes on him again.
 
“So why do you carry a no-dachi?” she asked without preamble.

Akira blinked and looked confused.

“You know, the no-dachi,” she said.
 
“You already have a katana.”

Akira shrugged.
 
“It is my sword.”

“It’s not very useful,” she remarked.
 
“A katana is far less unwieldy.”

“You use a katana?” he asked.

She snorted derisively.
 
“We use ninjato.”
 
She pulled aside the outer kimono to expose two equal-sized swords, one on each side, tied with a slender obi.

“You use two swords of the same size.”

Masako shrugged.
 
“It is how we fight.”
 
She paused.
 
“Are you done?
 
Shigeko is waiting.”

Chapter Seventy

Akira followed Masako without a word through the door.
 
He stepped carefully across the boards, his feet noiseless on the nightingale floor.
 
Masako glanced sideways as he walked next to her.
 
Her face did not betray the surprise he suspected she felt.

Ninja are skilled in the way of the secret arts,
Windspirit said in his mind.
 
Keep alert; you know the mind tricks the ninja can use on you through your Tengu training.

Akira nodded imperceptibly.
 
He knew that the sword was right; if the ninja defeated him with their mind tricks, they would kill him for perceived deceit.
 
Their logic would be that someone who trained with the Tengu certainly could do everything a ninja could, maybe more.
 
Yet he was forced to use just his human skills, lest the Tengu take him back forever or kill him themselves.

Would death by the hands of ninja be as terrible?

Don’t think that way,
Windspirit said reproachfully.
 
I trained you better than to have such doubts in yourself.

That wasn’t meant for you to hear,
he thought back to the sword.

The sword’s soft chuckle tickled his mind like an annoying insect.
 
But before he had a chance to respond, Masako led him down a stairwell to a panel of what appeared to be
cherrywood
.
 
He considered the wood; something about it
felt
unusual.
 
She touched it carefully, and the outline of a door appeared.

Ninja magic,
he thought.
 
It was not all that dissimilar from Tengu magic, but it had a touch he did not recognize.
 
Where his power was largely in the wind and storms, theirs seemed to have an earthier feel to it.
 
Could they have a kami magic he did not recognize?
 
Or was this a magic of men?

I have never heard of mortal men having such powers,
Windspirit replied.

Masako slid open the door.
 
He followed her to the doorway and looked out, feeling the cold autumn air cut into his nostrils.
 
He shivered again, wishing for warmer clothing.

Before him stood a path paved with precisely cut granite.
 
The path led to a small sitting area where low stone benches sat along either side and gravel, carefully raked into colorful patterns, was accentuated with finely trimmed bonsai and maples with purple leaves.
 
The path wound through this sitting area to a small bridge where a stream chattered, its fluid movement danced along the ice forming along the edges.
 
Beyond the bridge, the path ended, melding itself into the lush grass that had not had a chance to turn brown.

Akira hesitated.
 
On the lawn before the trees that lined the borders of the walled compound were ninja.
 
There were not just two or three or even a few dozen.
 
It looked as though hundreds of ninja were there, all dressed in loose-fitting brown or black
keikogi
.

Shinobi shozoku,
Windspirit said in his mind.
 
The dark colors are their way of hiding or blending in.

Akira could see this.
 
The brown garb looked like something peasants would wear.
 
A trained eye might pick out the inconsistency of the
keikogi
shape if one were looking for it, but otherwise they would simply blend in with the local peasantry.
 
And the black uniform at night would make them nearly invisible to mortal eyes.

One group was practicing a type of kata Akira was unfamiliar with.
 
As a samurai, Akira was used to seeing hard throws and hard attacks.
 
Instead, he saw the ninja sway in an almost hypnotic movement.
 
They were slow and graceful, using movements he had never seen before, even among the Tengu.

His eye caught the movement of a man flying through the air before landing softly on the ground.
 
Another group of ninja was practicing some type of acrobatics.
 
The ninja had formed two lines and rolled across it, leaping to their feet as they did so.
 
Some ninja did handsprings or back flips, landing perfectly each time with their guard up.
 
Akira nodded in admiration.
 
These humans had trained to do what he, a half-Tengu knew by nature.

Next to the acrobatic ninja were ninja climbing a type of obstacle course.
 
There were two rows of bamboo stalks, rising up from a foot to well over fifteen feet off the ground.
 
One ninja would step carefully from bamboo pole to bamboo pole, keeping his or her balance even as the poles bent and swayed under the weight.

Next to that group were ninja fighting with various weapons.
 
They used not only the ninjato and naginata, but also kamas, sai, steel fans and shuriken.
 
The ninja throwing the shuriken aimed at ninja who were deflecting the deadly throwing stars with their swords.

Akira felt a light touch on his arm.
 
Masako was nowhere to be seen, but Shigeko stood beside him, her clothing nothing more than the Shinobi shozoku the other ninja wore.
 
As much as she surprised him, his Tengu training made him betray nothing.
 
He looked on her coolly, as if expecting her all along.

He half expected Windspirit to make a snide comment about his failing to pay attention, but when the sword remained quiescent, he turned to Shigeko again and nodded to the ninja on the wet grass.

“You have an amazing training facility here,” he said.
 
“I didn’t know there were so many ninja.”

Shigeko smiled ruefully.
 
“There are many ninja on this island, but almost all are of the Shinobi clan.”

Shinobi
—the word meant ninja as far as Akira knew.
 
“It is the name of your clan?”

“Yes.
 
Did you know that the word
ninja
was never in human vocabulary before my people were exiled here to Shinobi-jima?
 
Would you like to know why?”

Akira nodded.
 
“I would be honored if you told me this story.”

Shigeko clapped her hands.
 
Ninja appeared carrying a table, low benches, and a teapot with two cups.
 
They set the table and benches so they could sit and put the teapot and cups before them.
 
Shigeko motioned to one of the benches and seated herself on the other.
 
Akira glanced around before sitting across from her.
 
Before he could reach the cups, another ninja came forward and poured the steaming oolong tea into Shigeko’s then his cup.

Akira nodded his thanks and carefully tasted the hot tea.
 
It seemed to quell his nervousness.
 
He continued to watch the ninja as they practiced their skills.
 
He had seen samurai practice but not so many at once.
 
“You said you were samurai at one time,” he said.

“Yes,” Shigeko said.
 
“We are ronin but we seldom think of ourselves like that any longer.
 
We are ninja and we prefer to be that way.”

“How did you become ronin?”

She shook her head.
 
“The reason is not important,” she said with a dismissive gesture.
 
“My ancestors were to commit seppuku after their lord was disgraced and put to death.
 
They refused, for they did not believe that they should be held accountable for the actions of their lord.
 
But the emperor did not see it this way.
 
The emperor sent his soldiers to kill us and take away our lands.
 
At first our families fought, but the might of the emperor was too great, and one by one, our houses failed.”

Akira cocked his head, despite himself.
 
“What happened?
 
Surely you all did not fail.”

Shigeko nodded.
 
“No, we did not.
 
As I said, the house of Shinobi was once a great samurai name.
 
In desperation, we mounted an attack against the emperor and his isle.
 
But we knew we could not destroy his samurai armies face-to-face.
 
They were too great.
 
We struck a bargain with the kami, the Tengu, and the dragons.
 
They taught us what we needed to know to survive.”

“The Tengu agreed to teach you?” Akira mused.
 
What did they ask in return?
 

“Yes,” she said.
 
“They all taught us the ways of the night.
 
Slowly we began to gain ground again.”
 
She paused and her voice became distant.
 
“At one point, a young warrior consulted a dragon, who told us that the only way for us to truly remain free was to take the emperor’s island.
 
He returned with the news.
 
Many of the warriors thought him mad, but we knew we had little to lose at that point.

“So under the cover of darkness, we set sail.
 
The wind was with us; the Tengu made certain of it.
 
We slipped into the island and killed everyone while they slept.”

“But the emperor...”

“The emperor was still alive.
 
A traitorous kami alerted the emperor and his family; they were able to slip out the day before our attack.”
 
She smiled in chagrin.
 
“But the emperor was a coward and without honor, and his family holds much shame, even though they hold their heads high.
 
They betrayed so many of their loyal samurai that day.
 
So the Imperial Island became ours, and he fled to another island, where he rebuilt his grand city.”

Akira stared in wonderment.
 
“Then this is...”

“Yes, Takeshi Akira Stormhammer, the Tengu did bring you to Imperial Island.”

“Why aren’t the Shinobi the ruling clan?”

Shigeko nodded.
 
“You tell me, my young Takeshi.”

Akira fell silent.
 
His eyes rested on one ninja as he parried two shuriken and caught another in midair with a gloved hand.
 
Akira reached down and picked up the teacup.
 
It was of red earthenware without any adornment or even glaze.
 
He took a sip of the lukewarm tea and set it down.
 
“The emperor had more allies,” he said at last.
 
“Those who are in power stay in power.”

Shigeko nodded.
 
“And now you know the plight of the ninja.”

He frowned.
 
“Why are you telling me this?
 
You don’t even know if I’m who I say I am.”

“I believe you are,” Shigeko said.
 
“But if you are not, you will fail these tests and it will matter little because you will be dead.
 
But if you pass, my young samurai, you may be whom the Shinobi have been waiting for these many years.”

He is not a pawn of the Shinobi,
Windspirit’s voice rang clearly in Akira’s mind.

“No,” she said softly, “but he is our guest here.
 
Know this, sword, no one samurai has ever entered our island since we drove the emperor from it.”

A shiver ran through Akira.

It is not his fault he was brought here.

“The Tengu brought you here, did they not?” Shigeko asked.