Blood Ninja

by Nick Lake

  “So you can go outside in the light, even though you’re a vampire?”

  Taro nodded. “So it would seem.”

  “And that means that when Little Kawabata comes back, you’ll be waiting for him.”

  Now Taro grinned. “Oh, yes. I have an idea about that.”

  Obeying Taro’s instructions, Heiko stood by the door inside the hut, while Taro slipped outside. He had explained to her what he wanted her to do.

  Taro locked the bolt from the outside, then slipped the key under the door so that it was only partly exposed to anyone coming from outside. He was making an assumption: Little Kawabata did not have a skeleton key, and would be expecting to have to pick or force the lock. If he saw Heiko’s key sitting there under the door, chances were he would try to pick it up, to make his task easier.

  Taro hoped that Heiko would remain alert. Her job was to keep an eye on the key, most of which was on her side of the door. There was a gap between the door and the ground just high enough for Little Kawabata to get his hand under it. As soon as his hand appeared, she was to grab it. The rest should be easy after that.

  Taro sat, waiting, on the roof of the rice store. Despite the fullness of the daylight, he was invisible from the ground. So he hoped, anyway. The sun hung high up in the sky now, illuminating the slopes of the valley with hard, flat light. Yet it didn’t hurt him, and he was at a loss to understand why. He had seen Shusaku’s pain on the beach in Minata, when the rays of the sunlight had reached him. He ran his tongue over his long, sharp canines. Yes, he was definitely a vampire.

  One, it seemed, who could go abroad in daylight.

  Even as one part of Taro’s mind fussed over the strangeness of this, there was another part that thought something else. That thought, This could be useful. Idly he spun his sword in his hand. Little Kawabata was taking his time. As he waited, Taro’s mind wandered. He thought of the story of Susanoo, kami of storms, and the eight-headed serpent—for this was what had inspired his idea.

  Susanoo, who was a powerful god of the sea, was roaming the northern mountains one day when he came across a grieving family of kunitsukami, gods of the land, led by Ashi-na-Zuchi. When Susanoo asked the leader what was wrong, the kami of the land told him that his family was being ravaged by the fearsome Yamata-no-Orochi, the eight-headed serpent. This monster had carried away and killed seven of Ashi-na-Zuchi’s daughters, and now it was coming for his eighth and final daughter, Kushi-inada-hine.

  Susanoo looked on the eighth daughter, and saw that she was beautiful. (In fact, he had seen this before he’d stopped to speak to Ashi-na-Zuchi. He wouldn’t have taken an interest in the tedious problems of land gods, had there not been a beautiful girl involved.) He asked Ashi-na-Zuchi for his daughter’s hand in marriage, in return for defeating the serpent, and the old land god readily agreed.

  Immediately Susanoo prepared eight bowls of sake, since it was known that all monsters were great lovers of rice wine. These he placed on eight platforms, which he had the men of the village build. These platforms in turn were placed behind a new fence, with eight square gates just large enough to allow the passage of a serpent’s head.

  Sure enough, the serpent took the bait and put each of its heads through each gate, slurping up the sake with each green and monstrous tongue. Thus distracted, the monster did not see Susanoo as he calmly walked along the fence, chopping off each head in turn. The later heads attempted to extricate themselves, of course, but as anyone who has ever been a child knows, it is much easier to push your head through a fence than it is to pull it back out again. Soon all eight heads were sliced off, and Susanoo chopped off the tails, too. In the fourth tail he found Ame-no-Murakumo-no-Tsurugi, the greatest sword ever to cut flesh, which he presented as a gift of appeasement to Amaterasu, his half sister and the goddess of harvests and plenty, with whom he had an enduring rivalry.…

  There was a noise from below. Taro looked down and saw Little Kawabata kneeling by the door.

  A wave of hot anger ran through Taro as he looked on the podgy boy who had tried to kill him. Then Little Kawabata yelped, as if something had happened to his hand.

  This was Taro’s cue. He leaped down from the roof, landing next to Little Kawabata. The boy’s right hand was under the door, and his face was pressed painfully against the wood. He had gone down on his knees. Taro supposed that Heiko must be putting a nasty little hold on that hand, to make Little Kawabata squirm so.

  Taro put his hand on Little Kawabata’s chin and turned his face so that the fat boy could see him. Then, very deliberately, so Little Kawabata could see, he drew his sword and held the blade over the fat boy’s wrist.

  Little Kawabata gasped, and his face blanched, as if he had seen a ghost. Perhaps that was really what he thought After all, how else could Taro still be alive, and standing in the morning sunlight?

  “Listen carefully,” Taro said. “Heiko has your wrist held tight. At a single movement from you I will cut off your hand. Do you believe me?” To underline his point, he drew the blade lightly along Little Kawabata’s skin, leaving a shallow cut.

  Little Kawabata nodded, whimpering.

  “But I don’t want you to die, even if you tried to kill me. Do you believe that?”

  Little Kawabata nodded again, eyes wide.

  “Good. Then we will return to the crater, and you will never seek to hurt me again. Understood?”

  Little Kawabata nodded. “Y-yes,” he stuttered.

  CHAPTER 46

  Little Kawabata stared up at the vampire boy, his skin shimmering in the sun. He was used to being beaten by his father whenever he was caught doing something bad—and yet here was Taro, forgiving him for attempting to kill him!

  At that moment Little Kawabata felt something he had never felt before: a flicker of admiration.

  If anything it made him angrier, stoked his jealousy just as soft, clear air stokes the flames of a vicious fire.

  CHAPTER 47

  Taro led the way to the crater, keeping always to the shadows of the trees, not to preserve himself from the sunlight but to keep them from the view of any passing villagers. Little Kawabata followed behind, breathing heavily. Taro was setting a quick pace. He was worried about getting back before their absence was noted, but he also couldn’t help feeling slight pleasure at Little Kawabata’s discomfort.

  Soon they reached the little hut at the top of the meadow that opened into the cave system.

  Taro opened the door and went in. It was as he stepped into the cool twilight of the interior that a hand closed over his shoulder, and a familiar voice spoke.

  “Got you,” it said.

  CHAPTER 48

  Taro twisted to see Shusaku standing over him. Next to him was Kawabata the elder, looking furious.

  Then Shusaku surprised Taro by throwing his arms around him. “I thought you might have died,” he said.

  Taro found that he was more glad than he had expected to see the ninja again, even if he was in trouble for sneaking out. He hugged Shusaku tight. But then Shusaku broke away and stared at him, incredulous.

  “You just walked up the mountain in the daylight?”

  “Yes,” said Taro. “It didn’t hurt.”

  Kawabata frowned. “You definitely turned him?”

  “I know how to make a vampire,” said Shusaku. “Look at his teeth.”

  “Vampires don’t walk around in the sunshine,” said Kawabata.

  “No.” Shusaku was thoughtful now. “They don’t. Once again, young Taro, it seems there is more to you than meets the eyes.” He looked down at the broken bow in Taro’s hands. “But we will talk about that later. For now you have some explaining to do. Well?”

  Taro looked down. “I … that is …”

  Shusaku grunted. “Really? Well, that explains everything. How foolish of me to worry about you. I thought perhaps Kira had found you and taken you to Lord Oda. I thought you might be in danger. Do you understand that, Taro?”

  Taro could think of nothing to
say. He had caused Shusaku distress, and he hadn’t meant to, but that didn’t make it any less horrible.

  Kawabata glared at him. “And why did you drag my son into it? He’s a good boy. Yet ever since you arrived he has become uncontrollable!” The leader turned to Shusaku, his face purple with anger. “Perhaps you should be more careful about the brats you bring here, in future. I will not have my charges—and my son—corrupted by outside influence.”

  Shusaku raised a hand to cut off Kawabata’s flow of outrage. But when he turned to Taro, the disappointment was evident in every movement of his body, and Taro felt a pang of guilt.

  “Your explanation, please, Taro,” said the ninja.

  “I’m sorry, Shusaku,” Taro said. “I went to get my bow. I took Heiko with me.”

  “I thought you left the bow in the cave.”

  “No. I dropped it, in the ditch at the village down the mountain. A man took it … and I wanted to get it back, without your help.”

  “It’s broken,” said Shusaku dully.

  Taro shot a glance at Heiko, a glance that said, Keep quiet. “Er … yes. The man who took it, he must have snapped it. I don’t know why.”

  Shusaku narrowed his eyes. “I see. And why did you go looking for it on your own?”

  “You’re always saving me and … Anyway. I asked Heiko to go with me. The bow was in a locked hut, you see, and I knew that she could pick locks.”

  “You show resourcefulness. There is that to be grateful for.”

  “He shows insubordination,” said Kawabata. “He is a liar and a sneak. He probably kidnapped my son. As it is, I will have to punish Little Kawabata severely. He is a disgrace to me. He has thrown the safety of our community into jeopardy, as have you all.”

  “No …,” said Little Kawabata, voice trembling.

  “Little Kawabata was only helping me because I asked him to,” Taro said.

  The elder Kawabata turned on his son and gripped him by the upper arms. It was then that he saw the thin cut on the boy’s wrist.

  “What’s this?”

  Little Kawabata trembled. “It’s nothing.”

  “No. It’s a sword wound. Who did it?”

  Shusaku looked down at the arm and turned a questioning glance on Taro.

  Little Kawabata pulled away from his father. “No one.”

  Kawabata slapped him, hard. “Who. Did. It?”

  The boy hung his head. “Taro.”

  “What did you do, boy?” demanded Kawabata, stepping forward threateningly.

  “He said he would cut my hand off!” said Little Kawabata, warming now to his role.

  “That’s rubbish!” said Heiko. “I mean, he did, but only because Little Kawabata tried to kill him!”

  Shusaku stared. “What?”

  Kawabata spluttered, unable even to find voice for his shock and anger. His face had now turned a deep purple that was close to black.

  “It’s true,” said Heiko. “Taro would never tell you—he’s too honorable for that. But I don’t have time for honor, especially when it comes to boys like Little Kawabata.” She almost spat these words out, her eyes narrowed at the leader’s son.

  Taro slumped against the wall of the hut. This was not what he had wanted.

  “Tell me everything,” said Shusaku to Heiko.

  And she did. Soon Shusaku was shaking his head in disbelief as she recounted how Little Kawabata had taunted them through the door, telling them about the light that would soon filter through the walls. Little Kawabata looked down, shaking slightly, a tear running down his cheek.

  Shusaku put a hand on the boy’s chin and tilted his face up. “Is it true? Did you lock them in?”

  Little Kawabata nodded miserably.

  “Then you will die,” said Shusaku simply. Taro gasped. “Even your father cannot prevent it,” continued the ninja.

  Kawabata looked like a pig’s bladder from which the air had escaped. He seemed diminished, in physical height and in presence. “I would not even try to prevent it,” he said with revulsion, as if the words tasted rotten and he wanted them out of his mouth. “He is no longer my son.”

  The fat man turned away.

  “But …,” said Heiko. “I … Gods … this isn’t what I wanted to happen.” She looked stricken. “I only knew that Taro wouldn’t tell you the truth.”

  Shusaku touched her arm. “You did the right thing.”

  Taro was horrified. He could not have another boy die because of him, even if the boy was a nasty little grub. “But I got his word that he would never try to hurt me again,” he said to Shusaku. “And the light didn’t hurt me. And anyway, I forgave him.”

  Shusaku looked at him with kind eyes. “Perhaps you have,” he said wearily. “But the ninjas do not forgive so easily. Little Kawabata attempted to kill you. He believed that the light would be fatal to you. The fact that it wasn’t is irrelevant. There has never before now been a vampire who could stand the sunlight, so he could never have anticipated the eventuality. Our rules are very clear, when it comes to one ninja murdering another, or trying to. Little Kawabata must be punished, in the only meaningful way. He must lose his life.”

  Taro looked imploringly at his rescuer, the man who had saved his life, and then led him halfway across the country, surprising him all the time. “Please, Shusaku,” he said. He swallowed. “I would not ask if it was not important to me. Please. Spare him.” He glanced at Little Kawabata, who was looking at him with a sort of wretched hope. Kawabata senior still faced the wall, only the heaving of his shoulders betraying his emotion. Heiko watched the exchange, eyes wide.

  Shusaku put his hands on Taro’s shoulders. “You plead for the life of this boy, who tried to kill you? This boy who has done nothing but seek to harm you since you arrived here?”

  “Yes.”

  Shusaku sighed. “It’s impossible. The code is strict.” But the scarf wrapped around his face creased as he spoke, as if his eyebrows and mouth were moving with thought.

  “No,” said Taro. “There is another way. I see it in your face.”

  “You can’t see my face,” said Shusaku.

  “Nevertheless.”

  Once again the ninja master sighed. “Very well. There is another way of settling a dispute, if Kawabata-san is in agreement.”

  The leader turned, frowning. Shusaku leaned forward and whispered something into his ear.

  Kawabata nodded, his face ashen.

  “Then it is decided,” said Shusaku. “You and Little Kawabata will fight to the death, with weapons of your choosing.”

  Heiko’s eyes sprang wide open. “But Taro’s a vampire! He’s practically unbeatable, by a mortal opponent!”

  Shusaku nodded. “Yes,” he said. “That’s rather the point.”

  Little Kawabata fainted.

  CHAPTER 49

  Taro sat in a corner of the cave system with Hiro, Yukiko, and Heiko. Little Kawabata had gone off on his own, refusing to speak to anyone.

  “I’m so sorry,” said Heiko. “I had no idea this would happen.”

  Hiro put a hand on Taro’s shoulder. “He deserves it, you know,” he said. “He tried to kill you.”

  “It doesn’t mean he deserves to die,” said Heiko.

  Taro said nothing.

  “Have you chosen your weapons?” asked Yukiko.

  “Yes,” said Taro. “We will fight with the sword.”

  “But … you’re like a demon with a sword,” said Yukiko. “He won’t stand a chance.”

  “No,” said Taro, wishing he didn’t have to conceal his purpose, wishing he could share his plan with his friends. “He won’t.”

  The look Heiko gave him, her eyes wide with horror, filled him with shame.

  CHAPTER 50

  Shusaku sat on the wood-and-leather horse that had been set up in the storeroom to simulate fighting on horseback. “No,” he said. “I’ve never seen any vampire who could withstand the sunlight.”

  Taro pursed his lips, toying absently with some nunch
akus.

  “I’d have thought you’d be pleased,” said Shusaku. “This is a great gift. And it will give you a huge advantage.”

  “You think?”

  “Of course. None of us can move about in the day, and so no one expects ninja outside the hours of night. You have surprise on your side.”

  “I suppose,” said Taro. “I just … don’t like always being different.”

  Shusaku patted the false horse’s back thoughtfully. “Yes. I can understand that.”

  “You’ve really never seen it before?” said Taro. “Not once?”

  “Never.”

  “Then why? Why would I be different?”

  Shusaku shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. My only thought is … Well, I don’t know if it is not just a stupidity.”

  “What?” said Taro, curious.

  The ninja spoke as if thinking aloud. “I told you that some claim we are descended from the kami of nighttime, that some of the attributes of those old god-spirits are passed through the blood when we are turned.”

  “Yes. You said you didn’t believe it.”

  “I didn’t. Only … I simply wondered whether … Let us say, that is, for argument’s sake, that it is true. Do you remember the story the abbess told? About the ama who recovered the Buddha ball, and how her son honored her after death?”

  “Yes.”

  “In the story she became almost a god herself. She reached a higher state of grace, of enlightenment. That was what enabled her to curse the prince’s line and ordain that her descendent would become leader of the country. Well, it strikes me that … if that descendent is you,… then perhaps the blessing of that ama, a woman who had become not the dead spirit of a person but a bodhisattva, could protect you from the light. Sunlight after all is the gift of Amaterasu, the kami goddess of the sun. A bodhisattva could solicit her favor, ask her not to burn her distant descendant.”

  Taro stared at him, unbelieving. All this talk of kamis and bodhisattvas, as if they were real. He knew that the peasants made offerings to Inani, wishing for bountiful crops, and that the fishermen worshiped Susanoo, the god of storms—or feared him, more precisely—but they existed in some parallel realm, surely, far from here.