by M. H. Bonham
“Where am I?” Akira demanded.
Where do you think you are?
“Not Tsuitori-jima,” he said, grimacing. “The sun is too high in the sky for the season.”
You have learned something, Windcatcher remarked. The others were afraid you would not have learned anything.
Akira laughed. “I have learned I want to be as far away from you as possible. Why have you taken me from Tsuitori-jima?”
Because your destiny lies here, Stormhammer.
Akira paused at the use of his Tengu name. “You still want me to return to you?”
Yes, because in your heart, you are still one of us.
“You’re wrong.” He finished his tea and slammed down the cup. “Where are we?”
We are on what the humans used to call the Imperial Island.
“Kyotori-jima?” Akira’s gaze narrowed. Why would they send me there?
You will have business here.
“What am I to do?”
Windcatcher imitated a human shrug. I do not see the full future. A naginata appeared in his hands. Take this; it will keep you safe.
“Safe?” Akira stood up and approached his half brother. He looked into the kami’s emotionless face, trying to gauge the Tengu’s thoughts. It proved unrewarding because even Windcatcher’s eyes betrayed nothing. Akira grasped the pole arm and tugged it free from the Tengu’s hand. It felt heavy and awkward after having trained with practice weapons for so long.
We are far outside of the city. Ninja scour the countryside. It is very dangerous.
“And I am to go to Kyo?”
You will go where your path takes you. Remember, you will be watched. With that, Windcatcher vanished.
Chapter Sixty-One
Several days passed without any sign of Tenko. Kasumi found herself bored, so she spent her time as a cat or a tiger, depending on where she was. She wasn’t far from Yutsui and the Takeshi compound. She knew Takeshi had returned but didn’t want to meet him without some sort of idea where his son had gone. She slipped in and out of the compound with ease, watching the villagers repair the destroyed roof and other damage across the buildings.
On those sunny days, in cat form, she would lie in the warm sunlight and twitch her tail as she watched the goings-on. Takeshi was an older man with a slight shock of gray along his temples and a sharp-featured face that reminded her a bit of Akira. Akira appeared to take more after his mother than father, with a gentler face and slighter build. Still, as she watched him supervise the repairs, she could see the strain in his features.
Kasumi had to admire him. He was an unpretentious man for a samurai; his clothing was neither gaudy nor garish, nor did he paint his face or teeth like those at court. Occasionally Takeshi would notice her as she watched him while she sunbathed. The first time he saw her, she blinked slowly as their eyes met, and he nodded as though he respected her.
The day after that, when she came to the Takeshi home, she spied a small bowl filled with warm broth. She walked over to it and found it was miso. Kasumi tasted it; the broth tingled in her mouth, salty and fishy. A shadow appeared over her, and she looked up to see Takeshi looking down. He crouched and gently stroked her back with his fingers. A purr burbled up inside her throat, despite herself.
“Little Neko, do you know where my wife and son have gone?” Takeshi asked.
She turned and looked at him unblinkingly. Kasumi didn’t know what she could say to him. She wanted to find Akira and Ikumi but knew she had to wait on Tenko first. The kitsune had promised to help her out.
She turned and finished the warm, salty miso before playfully batting at the daimyo’s hand. Takeshi laughed but the laugh was full of sorrow. She mewed at him and rubbed against him before putting both paws on his knee and looking into his eyes.
I will find Akira, she thought. Somehow I will bring him back to you.
#
The days went by slowly, and Kasumi was ready to give up hope on seeing Tenko again. Ten days after Tenko left, he returned while Kasumi was sleeping in the hut. It was still dark, and the cold air wafted through the hut as he opened the door. He was in human form and quickly donned clothing as Kasumi rose and tied her obi and swords to her tunic.
“Where have you been?” Kasumi crossed her arms.
“Looking for someone who knows where Akira is.” Tenko clucked his tongue as he bent down to inspect the fire pit. “You didn’t make tea?”
“I just woke up.”
“Lazy Neko-sama.” He tossed more kindling on the embers and blew on them. The coals sputtered and glowed red with each puff.
Kasumi let the jab go. “I’m sorry but how was I to know when you’d be back—or if you’d be back at all?”
Tenko shook his head. “So you thought you would take advantage of my generosity?”
Kasumi was about to argue when she caught the amusement in his eyes and laughed. “You old fox! You are terrible.”
“And you need to get water to make tea.” He handed her a bucket. Kasumi went to the well and filled the bucket. The moons hung low in the western horizon, shining their light before the dawn. She came back inside and handed the bucket to the kitsune.
He made tea without discussing anything further. Kasumi paced impatiently. When he looked up, she raised her hands in exasperation. “What did you find out?”
“Akira is no longer on Tsuitori-jima.”
Kasumi halted in her pacing. “He’s not?”
“No. It took me a long time to get the information out of the Tengu but he’s gone.”
“What about Ikumi?”
Tenko shook his head. “I think she’s beyond our help.”
Kasumi stared. “They killed her?”
“Not exactly but she is in essence gone from this world, according to those birdbrains.” He took another sip of tea. “This is very good tea, Neko-sama. Surely you would like some.”
“What I would like is to know how we’re going to find Akira.”
“Have some tea; our guide will be here at dawn. You are packed, aren’t you?” He took another sip. “I suppose there aren’t any more rice cakes?”
Kasumi snorted in indignation. “How would I know how to make them?”
“Too true. That is the price of being samurai,” he said. He finished his tea and, without a word, opened the door to leave.
“Wait!” Kasumi ran after him and tugged at the door. “Where’s our guide? What is going on?”
The kitsune smiled and, as he did, he turned into his fox form. Look to the sun as it rises, Neko-sama. There you will find your answer. With that, he was gone.
Kasumi snorted and shook her head. “Kitsune,” she muttered. They were unpredictable at best. But she sensed no deception in the old man, which made her curious. Was there something she needed to do to find this help?
She stood up and stretched, rubbing her legs’ cold muscles to restore circulation. She turned and looked to the east. Already the sky was lightening and the stars were winking out one by one. She frowned. Look to the sun as it rises. What did the kitsune mean by that?
She straightened up, picked up her pack, and walked eastward. The brush grew thick and tugged at her clothes, but she did not care. She started at a slow walk, but it quickly became a fast stride. Before she knew it, she was bounding through the forest, her feet making little noise through the dense undergrowth.
Part of her was the tiger all the time. But she knew the tiger could not run the way a human could, so she kept the tiger in check. Yet something feral touched her mind as she ran, and she remembered how her ancestors had run through the dense forests of Neko-shima those many years before.
Now she ran for them. The thick pine and bamboo forest gave way to a white sandy beach. She leaped onto the cool sand and let the sandals fly off as she ran to the water. The ghost crabs scuttled away from her as she entered the waves, which lapped at her feet.
Then she stopped. She stared to the east, where the sky was turning crimson. A thin red line touche
d the ocean, and as she shielded her eyes from the brightness, the sun began to rise as though from the ocean itself, red and swollen.
And even as she watched it rise, her heart sank. There would be no help. There was nothing here but sun and waves.
Watch for it, came Tenko’s voice in her head.
She almost turned to the kitsune but instead forced herself to watch the sun. As she started to feel her eyes burn, she saw something emerge from the sea.
The head came first, gleaming scales against the rising sun. The neck and long, lithe body with legs and claws emerged next, followed by the long tail.
She caught her breath. A dragon?
He will be our guide to what you seek.
Chapter Sixty-Two
Akira stared at the spot where Windcatcher once stood and again at the boughs of the trees above him. The futon and platter of food had disappeared, and Akira sensed he was truly alone. The cloying feeling of the Tengu had gone, and he sensed nothing on the wind. A small pack and canteen lay on the ground. He picked up the pack and rummaged through it. The pack’s contents yielded salted fish, rice wrapped in lotus leaves, and mochi.
Though he could sense no further presence of the Tengu, he knew the kami could and would hide from him if they chose to. He was no longer Tengu, yet he was still one of them. He simply couldn’t erase the months since his capture, and even if he did, he could not deny he was still half Tengu. Even so, he didn’t want to live the life he’d be forced to live with them. He wanted to return home, to his family and his father’s estate.
Why had they chosen to leave him on Kyotori-jima? Why not Tsuitori, his homeland? Akira thought of his father. Takeshi had been in Kyo when Akira and Ikumi were captured. Was he here now? Akira doubted it. After all this time, Takeshi would return to his home to search for his wife and son and to restore the Tsuitori mansion. Akira doubted that Takeshi knew or understood the full power of the Tengu—that the Tengu could travel across the archipelago faster than the trade winds and could take his son anywhere they chose.
Akira sighed, shaking his head at the Tengu logic. Kyotori-jima was a large island, or so his father had often told him. He tried to remember the geography lessons his sensei had tried to teach him, when he had not been daydreaming of flying on Tsuitori’s thermals. Kyo was a large port city that sat on the southeastern end, sheltered from the constant westerlies. Kyo’s peasants and farmers worked the surrounding terraced rice farms, which supplied most of the food for the imperial city. To the north and west were the great mountains where dragons slept and the forests along the windward side. Eventually the windward side became barren, scoured by the winds as they raked across the island. Akira guessed he was most likely west and maybe north of Kyo, directly outside of the farms.
He hefted the pack and canteen. It would be a long walk to Kyo, assuming he did not run into ninja first.
#
Kasumi watched as the dragon approached. It was a lovely and dangerous creature with blue scales and large, sharp claws. She frowned. Dragons, like the one that had ravaged Yutsui, were terribly capricious. She wondered what ties this dragon had with the kitsune.
As she watched the dragon, she was impressed as it swam among the waves. The large creature had a massive head with thick wrinkles and protruding eyes. Its long whiskers in its monstrous face reminded her of a fiend’s mask such as one she might see at a noh play. It made her stare at the creature in amazement.
She felt a hard nudge at her arm. She glanced down, startled at the fox’s sudden intrusion. Don’t look into its eyes, the kitsune warned.
Kasumi, about to look back at the creature, hesitated, remembering stories about how dragons could mesmerize humans. While she was not quite human, she knew she had enough mortal blood in her to maybe make her fallible. She frowned.
“What manner of trickery is this?” As the dragon approached, she kept her hand on her sword.
Tenko shook his head. No tricks, Naotaka-sama, he said. I have spoken to the dragon; he knows where the boy is.
Kasumi bit her lip as the dragon swam toward her.
You have summoned me, Tenko? The dragon’s voice boomed in her head.
Tenko bowed low and Kasumi did the same. It would not do to anger a dragon, she thought wryly.
I have, my lord, Tenko said. We seek the boy Takeshi Akira, son of the samurai Takeshi. The one who was taken by the Tengu.
Stormhammer.
The dragon’s voice resounded in her skull, making her wish it were less powerful. Kasumi frowned. “Stormhammer?” She glanced at Tenko. “What does that mean, kitsune?”
The dragon turned to her, gazing at her with its baleful, catlike eyes. She felt her heart thump harder in her chest as it looked on her. For a moment, she felt as though she should throw herself to the ground and beg forgiveness from the monster. She tore her gaze away from it, forcing herself to look down. She did looked not at her feet, but at the dragon’s claws. Four toes per claw, she noticed. It was an island dragon to be certain. If it made a move, maybe she would detect it.
You. You are Naotaka Kasumi Neko, are you not?
“Yes,” she said, fighting the quaver in her voice. She took a slow, steadying breath and exhaled. Would it recognize her fear?
The dragon said nothing but gazed on her, its eyes expressionless.
“Stormhammer,” she repeated slowly. “You use that name or word. What does it mean?”
She felt Tenko tug at her pant leg, but she did not look. No doubt the kitsune thought her too bold. That might be but as a tiger, she would give the dragon something to fight if need be. The dragon, however, seemed unconcerned.
Stormhammer—that is the name the Tengu have given your young samurai.
The Tengu? What would they want with a samurai boy?
The dragon said nothing. Kasumi was nonplussed. What in the gods’ names did the Tengu want with the boy? Why they had taken either Ikumi or Akira was beyond her understanding.
After a brief silence, she decided to try again. “I must find the one you call Stormhammer and his mother, Ikumi,” she said. “Otherwise the Neko will be in terrible danger.”
The dragon cocked its head. Stormdancer has returned to her people, but the boy is on Shinobi-jima.
Kasumi’s eyes widened. “Shinobi-jima? She swallowed hard. Ninja Island? What is Akira doing there?
Chapter Sixty-Three
The sun hung low in the sky when Akira sensed a presence nearby. He had traveled for hours eastward without trouble. He had stayed away from the roads intentionally to avoid the possibility of human contact and drawing attention to himself. A young samurai would certainly garner ninja attention.
Even so, twice he had come upon signs of human habitation. He had crossed a road leading to a village similar to Yutsui. Just as the road curved, he could see the peasants’ squat huts. The other time, he had crossed a road near a small travelers’ shrine to the local kami. It was not much more than a few moss-covered stones stacked to shield a poorly carved, ivory effigy of some unknown god or goddess, and the shrine looked abandoned. Even so, Akira laid a bit of a rice cake as an offering before moving on. He hoped the kami in this place would take pity on him, renegade though he was.
It was then his Tengu senses screamed a warning; a sudden stab, like cold pain, shot through him. Akira’s pulse quickened and throbbed hard in his neck as he walked into the silence of the evergreens. There, beneath the dark boughs of lodgepole pines, he could see the small path that wound its way through. He took a slow breath in, allowing the thick, drowsy air to fill his lungs.
He held his naginata in a defensive position, blade to one side, high above his head. Akira stepped slowly, carefully placing each foot on the ground so not even a pine needle crackled. He looked around, seeing nothing in the boughs above him or behind the dark, scaly coniferous trunks. The fear continued to gnaw him as he continued forward.
A whizzing blade passed by his ear and lodged into a tree trunk. Akira turned and dropped low as two m
ore shuriken whirled over his crouched form. He ducked behind the pine boughs and stared in the place where the knives had come from.
Ninja. Only the ninja used such throwing weapons.
He glanced at the polished blade stuck into a tree. Sharp and deadly, it gleamed with a diamond-shaped blade. If it had caught him in the head or neck, it might have killed him, but more likely would’ve incapacitated him or at least slowed him down. Then the ninja would’ve come like wolves on a fallen beast.
The forest was silent. He looked around and saw no movement. Akira waited, measuring each breath with five beats of his own heart. His sweaty hands gripped the naginata, his arms shaky from the tension.
A small sound jerked Akira around, and he saw the needles whirl in the dirt like a dust devil. Akira leaped forward, swinging the naginata’s blade as the ninja pounced, throwing a chain with balls at the end of it to catch and entangle Akira’s weapon. The chain partially wrapped around the shaft, and the ninja pulled, but Akira knew better than to rely on the naginata. If he held on, the ninja could move Akira anywhere he wanted to, using the caught naginata to direct Akira’s actions. Akira slammed the sharp blade into the ground and backed away. The naginata was useless now, but then, so was the ninja’s weapon.
Akira turned to see three more ninja with various odd weapons appear. They drew their ninjato and various strange weapons: kamas, sai, nunchaku. Akira turned and ran.
#
Akira pelted through the forest, his heart pounding faster than his footfalls. He scrambled over roots and deadfall, through low-sweeping boughs and snags, and ran deeper into the safety of dark lodgepole pines. At first, he heard his pursuers’ footfalls behind him, but as he ran, the sound grew distant and ceased altogether. Only when he could hear nothing other than his labored breathing and his heartbeat did he stop.
He paused and coughed, his voice sounding unnaturally loud. He tried to slow down his racing pulse, but he couldn’t control it the way he could when he was Tengu. What else couldn’t he do? Now, without his full Tengu abilities, he began to think about what he had become used to over the short time he had been with them.