White Ninja (8 page)

I enter the dojang, bow and kneel in the centre of the mats.

‘The
shinobi shozoku
looks good on you,' Jackson says, kneeling in front of me, wearing his ninja suit too.

So, I have commenced my ninja training. Pretty hardcore for a girl who wasn't even adorkable a few days ago. I feel so cool now! Jackson and Sabo have outlined a detailed program that's meant to get me ready to enter the Cemetery of Warriors to find the White Warrior.

My program is based on fourteen core martial arts principles:

And five white-belt ninja skills:

I know: piece of cake. If you're a baker. I've been a nobody my whole life and now I'm expected to be the best somebody you can be, a real stealthy, speedy ninja! I just hope all those years of Hulk juice kick in.

The walls are emblazoned with the afternoon sun humidifying the room. Outside the dojang, the world moves through the rice-paper walls in shadows and I feel like a shadow myself. But in the dojang everything is focused, clear and aware. I feel so alive.

Jackson and I have been kneeling for a while, breathing deeply and speaking to our hearts to practise slowing down the beats to a gentle strum. Jackson's lips twitch as he ponders for a moment, then suddenly he yells, ‘Catch this!'

He spears his body towards the ceiling and spins once, sending a spinning hook kick to graze past my nose. I catch his heel mid-kick and pin it to the ground. His body lands hard against the mats and I twist his leg into a submission hold. We are so close and I blush.

‘Caught it,' I say. To cover my embarrassment, I add, ‘What type of ancient warriors are we talking about in the cemetery?'

I release him so he can answer.

‘There's Hanzo, head of the ninja clans. He will test your focus,' he says. ‘He has a shield across his mouth and black skin around his eyes that melts into his
shinobi shozoku
. He's the grossest thing imaginable.'

He throws a kick, but I jump, land the sole of my foot on his ankle and stamp down. He throws a right kick; I leap and stomp it down. He kicks again, this time a double front kick, and I leap into the air, land with both feet on top of his and stamp him back to the ground. He tries again and again, but every time I am too quick, my foot blocking his next move.

Jackson grabs my ponytail from behind. I spin under his arm, brushing my nose against his wrist, and come out the other side next to his elbow, where I strike, with my hand in a Y-formation, the side of his neck. He ducks, hooks the heel of my foot with his palm so I crash back onto my coccyx, then, holding firmly onto my heel with his right hand, he runs his left hand down my leg and jars my kneecap. I pretend to be in pain, then draw my knees back to my chest and explode my heels into his chest. He flies backwards, then lands, only to rebound in the air and charge back towards me. As he approaches, I reach for his ears with my feet, clamp his cheeks with my ankles, as I saw him do to Private Lincoln, twist my hips and flip him. He spins four times and lands on his feet.

‘Not bad,' he says.

A ‘not bad' feels like a ‘totally awesome' coming from him.

I jump to my feet without using my hands. Jackson and I stalk each other, circling the mats. Sabo watches and cracks a smile.

Jackson screams, ‘Ay-yah!' and rushes me with a flying side kick. I roll my chin backwards as he flies over me, the heel of his foot skimming past my chin, just missing my nose as I backbend and touch the floor with my hand. When he has passed, I straighten up again.

‘Who else?' I ask.

‘Shaolin Monk, master of Kung Fu, will test your movements,' he says.

Sabo flings us our ninja stars and we flick them out into the dojang and start chasing them like furious fireflies. Jackson flicks his and I chase it, then I flick my star and he flies after it. I can already tell that star chasey is going to be one of my favourite games. The ninja stars fly into the ceiling and we hook kick after them, with a triple spinning kick, tapping them with our toes and propelling them in any direction our feet choose. We strike and block each other's stars. Then we race the stars, spinning them out and backflipping across the room to beat them. I win.

‘That it?' I ask, panting.

‘Nope. The Apache Warrior will test your invisibility, then comes the finale.' Jackson pauses to suck in air. ‘The Gladiator is the last warrior and he will test your weaponry.'

Four warriors, four tests. A bit much for any ninja-in-training, let alone me. I swallow hard.

‘Speaking of weaponry,' Jackson says, sinking into a deep tiger stance double knife-hand strike, ‘that's what the Tiger Scroll of Fire is all about.'

‘Why fire?'

‘The ancient Two Sword School that trained the first ninjas referred to combat as fire,' he says. ‘The samurai traditionally only use the sword, but the ninjas …'

‘The ninjas' weapons are everything that exists,' I finish his sentence, copying his long stance, upper block, horse-riding stance, mountain block, flick of the hair.

Sabo brings over two
katana
swords. Jackson takes the one with a black leather handle and I take the one with the red leather handle. The blade is shorter than that of a typical samurai sword.

‘Shorter blade for increased mobility. You wear it on your back with the hilt over the shoulder,' Jackson says, demonstrating. I copy him.

‘The sword can be used in five ways,' he says.

He takes me to the wall, leans the sword, hilt up, against it and uses the guard, the
tsuba
, as a step to launch himself up onto a ceiling rafter. Then he pulls the sword up via the
sageo
, a cord attached to the scabbard, which he's tied around his ankle.

‘For example, climbing,' he says, opening his arms in a ‘ta-dah' action.

I lean my sword up against the wall and step up onto it, but it slips and I fall. My ego bruises.

‘Again.' Jackson laughs.

Sabo offers me a hand and, with his help, I step up onto the sword and struggle onto the beam. But I forgot
to tie the
sageo
around my ankle, so Sabo has to pass the sword up to me. Could I be more hopeless?

Jackson motions me to step back. He grips the sword's hilt in one hand and its scabbard in the other. He hesitates, then draws the sword out of the scabbard. A cloud of something explodes into my eyes — burning like shampoo, chlorine. ‘What the —?!' I scream, struggling to keep my balance on the rafter.

‘It's a combination of metal shavings, pepper and sand,' Jackson says proudly. ‘Works a charm.'

‘I can't see!' I yell as the world bombards me with jagged flashes of orange and green.

‘The sword can be used for climbing, as a blinding device, as a probe for exploring ahead in the dark,' Jackson says, counting them off on his fingers. ‘In combat, of course, against single or multiple assailants — whirl it around in a circle holding the
sageo
and you'll increase its reach.' He pauses for a moment, then adds, ‘Oh, I forgot you can use the tube as a blowpipe, or a snorkel for water-based missions.'

‘How could you forget that one?' I mutter, squinting at him through puffy eyelids as I shake my hair over my eyes to hide them from the glare of light.

Jackson leaps off the rafter and lands in the centre of the dojang, where he collects his ninja stars. I follow, stumbling as I land. I'm still acclimatising to
the traditional two-toed
tabi
that are like sock shoes and can put you a bit off balance if you're not used to webbed feet. I'm also still half-blind.

‘Beats capsicum spray,' Jackson assures me when I complain. He hands me a utility belt to tie around my waist. It contains a bamboo tube filled with gunpowder, metal shavings and pepper; a medicine canister with various compartments for herbs and poisons; a pen and pad for gathering intelligence; and a rope with a grappling hook at one end for climbing, which can also be used as a weapon for dragging people off their feet or off walls. I don't know where I'm going to meet these people who will need to be captured or hurt, but Jackson tells me that ‘a ninja's enemies are everywhere'.

He hands me my ninja star, also known as a
shuriken
, meaning ‘hand hidden blade'. ‘There are 350 types of
shuriken
, from the traditional needle-like blades to more modern shapes. There's the cross, star or triangle with swivelling blades that unfold from two points to four, six, eight, twelve,' he says.

‘Talk about ninja accessories,' I say. How am I going to learn all this in time? What if I get transported before I'm ready?

He laughs. ‘You don't have to learn them all; you only have to remember. It's in your blood. Instinct.'

In the dusty light of the dojang, we advance to
other projectile weapons in the ninja armoury, such as the travel bow, a hinged bow that can be folded into a walking stick to avoid detection. Jackson shows me how to make an emergency bow out of bamboo. I feel nervous as we sit cross-legged in our uniforms carving the bows. Elecktra is the artistic one.

‘Do you know how to make your own arrows too?' I ask.

‘Yep,' he says.

Jackson stands and walks over to a chest of drawers in the corner of the dojang. His scent of freshly washed clothes and home-made pasta sauce follows him; I get a whiff and smile happily. He takes out a tray of miniature arrows.

‘These are some I prepared earlier,' he says. ‘Poison-tipped.'

‘But they're so little.'

‘They can be shot from a tiny bow, or out of a blowpipe made from a short length of bamboo, or even a simple roll of paper from your notebook,' he tells me.

‘Wow,' I say, studying the tiny needles.

‘Spitting needles have been around long before Hero started using them at Gate Two,' he says. ‘This is how ninjas used to communicate. They used the darts to send messages — to get intelligence to besieged forces inside a village, for instance.'

My heart sinks at the mention of Gate Two. In the dojang, I feel capable and strong, but when I step outside I am myself again. Gate Two Roxy.

I step closer to Jackson and tilt my head for a passing breeze of his smell. But, as always, as soon as I get close, he steps back. The only time he really touches me is when we're fighting. I know I'm far too young for love combat. But I can't help it!

‘Ninjas think of everything,' I say. Everything but love.

Sergeant Major calls Years Seven to Ten out of normal classes for a special fitness test. The other teachers obviously aren't happy, but there is a big focus on sport and fitness at Hindley Hall. This was one of the reasons Mum chose the school for Elecktra and me, particularly when she met Sergeant Major at the school open day and was impressed with his army training and emphasis on fitness and discipline.

Sergeant Major lines us all up on the oval. ‘Side line side,' he commands.

We look left and raise a straight arm to the shoulder of the person next to us.

‘Straight arms. Look right. Straight line!' Sergeant Major yells.

We shuffle again as kids push in.

‘Not fast enough. Squats!' Sergeant Major yells.

We put our hands on our heads and begin a series of squats. The ‘groaners', as Sergeant Major calls them, are
instructed to do it double time. We count forty squats in unison. Sergeant Major blows his whistle and we stop.

‘Side line side!' he yells again, and this time we make the formation in twenty seconds. He clicks his boots together in approval. We stand at attention, hands in fists by our sides, staring into the distance.

‘Today is a simple fitness test,' he says. ‘To see who is fit, who is fast, who can evade, dodge, defend and stand their ground. And you will all show me this with a simple game of Tiggy.' He smiles. The older kids groan. I can tell Year Seven is excited. Tiggy is our speciality.

We are instructed to split into groups of ten. The aim is to tag as many kids in your team as possible. If you get tapped on the shoulder, you are out.

‘The last person standing will be the winner,' Sergeant Major says.

Elecktra and Jackson are way down the line, but I can hear Elecktra giggling. That gaping hole in my heart becomes a canyon. Jackson knows Elecktra is my sister. What if he likes her more than me?

To make it more challenging Sergeant Major divides us into groups that contain a mix of older and younger students. I can't believe it when he puts Hero, Bruce and Krew with Cinnamon, Jackson, Elecktra and me.

‘Ready ready,' Sergeant Major calls.

The game starts and we are all sprinting in different
directions; it's already total madness. My heart is bursting after a few minutes of trying to keep out of everyone's way. Elecktra is running after Jackson, but he's too quick for her. He catches my eye and folds his hands into the water sign. Even from across the oval, I see his moss-green eyes wink at me and I know he hasn't forgotten about me — yet. I understand his message. My mission is no longer just to tag other kids. This is a ninja training session.

I pause and close my eyes, then fold my hands into the water symbol representing the Water Tiger Scroll: left palm pointing up to my chin in prayer position, right hand making a fist and held an eyelash distance from the left palm. I feel the strong rock of my right hand and the fluidity of my left palm pushing against it to create a magnetic force that keeps my mind clear, my breathing deep and my body motionless. I feel myself lift slightly off the ground. I let my mind unload beneath me, shedding all the things that have been weighing me down: Hero's threats, Mum's attack and then her departure, Elecktra not wanting to know me at school and trying to take Jackson for herself, not knowing who my father is or what to do about my powers. The power of water runs through me. The invisible streams erode old beliefs like rocks and nourish new thoughts like trees.

In a single moment I am no longer the awkward kid who never says the right thing or wears the right
clothes. I am me, Roxy Ran, thirteen-year-old ninja-in-training. And that is more than enough. Like an orchid, I blossom. All those hang-ups rinse out of my skin and soak deep into the grass.

When I feel as light as a ninja star, I open my eyes and bring my hand up to my face. Nothing. I look down to my toes and again, nothing. For the first time, I am completely invisible.

I look over at Jackson and he is smiling through me. Hero runs past Jackson and slaps him on the shoulder. Jackson is out of the game, but exits with a smile.

Sergeant Major sends more kids into the game and the oval is chaos, with kids running into each other. It's easy for me to flash invisible without being noticed. Everyone is too busy saving themselves to see what I'm up to.

Cinnamon and Lecky are out, leaving me against Hero, Bruce and Krew, who are spread out across the oval, ready to capture me. I manage to creep up behind Krew, flash visible at the last second and then slap him on the shoulder without the others noticing. Krew jumps, his pin eyes expanding to walnuts when he realises it's me.

Still visible, I run to the other side of the oval. Bruce has his hands on his knees and is panting. I cruise up behind him, hiding myself from the rest of the class, then flash invisible and slap him on the shoulder.

‘What the —?' he says, looking around and seeing no one is there. I flash visible and smile like a Cheshire cat. He is furious.

‘Out,' Sergeant Major calls and Bruce storms off.

Now it's only Hero and me left. He charges after me. He's so fast it's as if his feet don't touch the ground, as though he's levitating, dragging his toes through the air. I can't flash invisible now; it would be too risky with all the other kids watching. I must rely on my other super power — courage. It's the hardest to muster. I run as fast as I can, hearing Hero gain on me and feeling the wind of his chase through my hair. I can't run forever. I decide to surprise attack. I stop, turn and somersault towards him. He isn't expecting me to dive low, and before he can screech to a stop, I smack him on the shoe. Tagged!

‘Roxy wins,' Sergeant Major calls across the oval. ‘Well done.'

As we're all trooping back to class, Jackson comes up and whispers in my ear, ‘Pretty impressive, Roxy Rox.'

My cheeks heat at the compliment and I think,
I am ninja
. When I gaze after him, I see Hero staring at me with evil in his eyes.

 

The next day, I cruise through Gate Two unscathed. Are the bullies having a day off? I'm deep in thought when I hear cheering and spy a congregation of Gate One kids in
front of the mansion. I shove my way through the crowd. In the middle of the circle, Hero is holding Jackson in a headlock. Cinnamon is cowering on the sideline. Elecktra is standing behind Cinnamon's afro, hiding.

‘Say it!' Hero demands, gripping Jackson's throat tighter in the crook of his elbow. His knees are bent and you can see every joint in his body applying pressure to Jackson's neck.

‘Jackson!' I yell.

Hero looks up. The veins in his forehead snake into his temples with the pressure of the hold. He smiles when he sees me. Jackson is grunting and trying to breathe.

‘Say Roxy Ran is a total loser!' Hero yells.

Kids are closing in around us, chanting and cheering Hero on. I am drowned in the centre of the circle. The world shrinks to a hurricane of sneers and insults. All I can smell is BO. The antiseptic taste of fear soaks into my mouth. Usually in a situation like this, I'd wish to disappear, but that won't stop Hero hurting Jackson.

‘Say it!' Hero jolts Jackson's neck violently.

Jackson shakes his head, grunts, stamps his foot, then yells with all his might, ‘You're a total loser!' He heaves another breath. ‘I used to beat you in comp and always will.'

Hero's face drains of colour. He wouldn't want people knowing he'd ever been beaten in competition.
Less glory for his trophy locker. He growls and pushes Jackson away, knocking him to the ground. I help him up. His nose is bleeding.

The circle closes in, kids are shouting.

‘You know you want to,' Hero sneers. ‘Say Roxy is a loser!'

Jackson stands tall and looks at Hero from under a bloodied brow. ‘No,' he says.

Hero takes a step backwards, winds back his arm and pushes Jackson. Jackson falls backwards. He hits the concrete.

I want to take Hero on, but the jeering crowd and the power of him make me lose my ninja nerve. I turn away from Hero and bend down to help Jackson up again.

‘Pizza,' someone calls and the crowd disperses. What is it with these guys and pizza?

Jackson looks pretty dazed and I feel completely responsible.

‘You should have just said it,' I whisper.

‘No, I couldn't,' he says. ‘So, you coming to the dojang later?'

He sure is persistent. Persistently crazy.

 

I have something to finish before I go to the dojang after school. I race home and burst into Elecktra's bedroom.

‘Why didn't you stand up for me today?' I yell. ‘Jackson could have been really hurt!'

Elecktra is combing her hair at her dressing table.

‘I'm thinking of running for Deputy School Captain,' she says.

I walk over to the dressing table and snatch her brush in my hand.

‘Ouch!' she screams.

‘Not ouch,' I say. ‘Ouch is having everyone chanting awful things about you and seeing your older sister hiding behind your best friend's hair. Ouch is having a new kid, who's known you five minutes, get pushed around while your sister, who's known you your whole life, just stands there.' I lean in closer. ‘Ouch is knowing that I would do anything for you, Lecky, and you don't care one bit about me.' I let go of her brush.

Elecktra stares at me, her dark eyes oiling with tears. ‘Cat, you've never yelled at me like that before,' she stammers. Her bottom lip quivers.

I choose not to stay for the drama. ‘Oh, stop fake crying,' I say and slam her door behind me.

 

I've been hanging out for today's lesson on fire training,
kaki
. Since the dojang sits behind an abandoned petrol station, Sabo suggested we drive to a nearby deserted
quarry to practise. Jackson's brought the gunpowder and wants to show me how to handle fire safely. It'll also be useful for when I go to the Cemetery of Warriors. Samurai are famous for their predilection for fire.

Sabo sets up a fold-out chair, rests a fire extinguisher underneath it, takes a sports drink out of his Esky and sits down to read the paper. His Taekwondo uniform works as a suntan reflector, beaming rays up into his face. He puts on his sunglasses. He doesn't need to tell us to be careful as Jackson has done so much fire training.

‘You haven't said much about the Cemetery of Warriors lately,' I say to Jackson as he sets up the explosives. He has a black eye from Hero. The dark bruising under his eye makes the green flecks flicker.

He shrugs. ‘The warriors are there to protect their lineage and the purity of their fighting art.'

Suddenly, I'm seized by panic. I can't defend myself against any kind of warrior! I'm a newbie ninja — hardly a ninja at all. I still can't throw my ninja star straight, and my strikes and kicks need more work. How am I meant to defeat a master?

I grip Jackson by the shoulders and shake him. ‘What if I can't do it?'

‘It's just one move at a time,' he says, calmly removing my hands and placing them in a prayer meditation position.

‘Stop speaking in bumper stickers,' I say. ‘I could die!' Why does he believe in me so much when no one else does?

Jackson fetches a carton of pre-prepared hollowed-out eggs from the van. He uses a straw to blow some gunpowder into an egg, then throws it to the ground at his feet. Nothing happens. He tries again with another egg. Still nothing happens.

‘The gunpowder's meant to make an explosion,' he says, ‘and I would vanish behind the smoke screen.'

‘And?' I say, hands on hips.

I roll my eyes as he tries and fails for a third time to make himself vanish with an egg.

We move on to attaching gunpowder-filled paper tubes to arrows, which we shoot at trees. Every time Jackson hits the target, Sabo cheers.

‘Usually we'd aim for flammable surfaces,' Jackson tells me.

I aim at the tree, pull back my elbow and release the arrow. It shoots backwards, not forwards, and pierces the soil close to Sabo's feet.

‘Watch it, girl!' Sabo yells as a small fire emerges. ‘My eyebrows are a feature — I'd like to keep them.' He fans the drifting smoke away from his face and throws his sports drink on the flames.

‘Sooo, I hear you've been hanging around with my sister, Elecktra,' I say as we practise with the arrows.

‘Yeah. Elecktra's cool,' he replies.

My heart shrinks to a pin. It has taken some bravery for me to mention this and it wasn't the response I wanted to hear.

‘She's super cool,' he adds.

In boy language this translates to ‘super cute'. I throw down my bow and arrows and storm off into the bushes. Jackson catches up with me and spins me around.

‘You still think she's super cool, even though she didn't stick up for me?' I search the green horizons of his eyes.

‘I know, I'm being pathetic,' Jackson says.

‘And I'm pathetic at being a ninja,' I sigh.

‘No.' He puts a hand on my shoulder and I feel lighter than I do when I flash invisible. ‘You're learning.'

‘But I can't fire arrows. My weaponry is lame. I'll never get to the Cemetery of Warriors at this rate,' I say, kicking rocks with my
tabi
.

Jackson takes five steps backwards, then shoots an arrow into a tree trunk directly above my head. It's a perfect shot.

‘Bow and arrow was my weakest weapon too,' he says. He takes my hand and the world colours again. ‘Don't give up, okay?' He smiles. ‘Friends?'

I squeeze his hand, and he squeezes it back.

We return to the training and I learn how to twirl fire sticks with sharpened points at either end, and scrunch gunpowder balls of paper that can be thrown like bombs. They remind me of the brown-paper fertiliser bombs kids use on frenemies' doorsteps. When you stamp on them to put out the fire, you step in the fertiliser. Disgusting!

Although I'm still pretty hopeless at the bow and arrow, I manage to master the
torinoke —
the eggs blown with gunpowder that create a smoke screen for disappearing. Jackson is very impressed. After I've vanished several times, we move on to specialised weapons, such as the chain-and-sickle weapon, which is a length of chain with a sickle-shaped blade projecting at a right angle from one end and a weight on the other. The weighted chain is used to ensnare an opponent's wrist or ankle and drag them off their feet, then the sickle finishes them off.