Samurai Son

by M. H. Bonham

  “I am Takeshi, also called Stormhammer among the Tengu,” Akira said.

  Ah, the immortal who has decided to take a mortal’s form,” the South Wind said. “We have heard of you.

  Akira frowned. “You have?”

  The South Wind laughed, her voice like wind chimes on the breeze. Oh, yes. Word travels swiftly among the winds. You are well known among us, Stormhammer.

  Akira nodded. He knew that the wind spirits would know more than any other kami. Even the smaller spirits would talk to the larger gales. “You are wise,” Akira said. “I was hoping to learn something from you.”

  The South Wind laughed and swirled around him, tugging his kamishimo and ruffling his hair as she passed by. You flatter and amuse me, Stormhammer. What do you wish to know?

  “I think I’m lost. Can you tell me how far we are to Kyo?”

  The breeze stilled and for a moment Akira thought she had moved on. But then he felt her fingers run through his hair again and her cool breath along his face. She kissed him and swirled around him, laughing as she did. You are very far away, Stormhammer. Very far, indeed.

  Akira frowned. “Far? How far?”

  You would need wings to get there.

  The breeze subsided and left Akira with a feeling of dread. He looked around but the wind kami had vanished, leaving the place oppressively warm.

  “Wait!” Akira called, hoping she hadn’t disappeared. “Aren’t we on Kyotori-jima?” He tried following the path of the wind kami but to no avail.

  Akira! Rokuro shouted.

  Akira halted as he felt the edge of a ninjato pressed against his neck.

  “No, boy,” came a rough voice behind him. “You’re on Shinobi-jima.”

  #

  Kasumi stared at the dragon. “We’re going? Now?” Her voice was thin and reedy with fright, much to her chagrin.

  The dragon looked at her. You are not frightened, are you, Neko-san?

  Kasumi glanced at Tenko, who nodded. This is your only chance to find the son of Takeshi, Neko-sama.

  Kasumi took a deep breath and turned to the dragon once more. The dragon easily outweighed her tiger form, and she knew, if the dragon chose, it could drown her in the oceans. She was a strong swimmer, but even tigers couldn’t swim across the vast archipelagos. The dragon’s body coiled around itself, and its blue scales shimmered in the dawn’s light. Its long legs descended into four-toed claws that could rake through her skin, and its teeth were larger and sharper than the teeth on the Guardian. Although it had no wings, it swam through the air just like it swam through the ocean.

  “I’m ready,” she said more to herself than to the dragon or Tenko. The dragon lowered itself, and she grasped the scales, which were smooth, iridescent, and warm to the touch. She scrambled up, half climbing and half swimming in an ungainly movement that would embarrass any cat. Kasumi seized the ridges along the dragon’s back and hauled herself up.

  Just as she seated herself between the spine ridges, Tenko skittered up the dragon’s scales and climbed up her leg, his sharp little claws poking through her silk clothing like needles. Before she could object, he slipped into her pack, curling himself up in a ball on top of her other clothing. Kasumi winced and gripped the dragon’s spine spikes.

  The dragon hunched up and, with a surge of raw power, leaped into the air. Kasumi scrambled to hold on as the dragon shot up into the sky. Her stomach lurched as the dragon swam through the air. Its legs paddled back and forth, and its tail wagged side to side to provide additional thrust.

  Kasumi had never flown before. She shut her eyes and gripped harder as the cold breeze rushed by her. The briny sea air overwhelmed her sense of smell and, despite keeping her mouth closed, her sense of taste as well. The salty wind burned the back of her throat, and her mouth salivated to compensate.

  Her stomach lurched when she finally opened her eyes, and she shut her eyes just as quickly. The sea below raced by at dizzying speeds. She felt her hands grip the spines even harder. She felt sick, tasting the bile as it welled up inside her throat.

  Never rode on a dragon before, Neko-san? The dragon’s voice was light, even gentle.

  No, she said, trying not to let her fear color her mental voice. She wondered what her mother or, even worse, the Guardian would think of her terror. She was behaving like a frightened kitten. She opened her eyes, forced herself to look down at the rushing green-blue waves beneath her, and nearly threw up. Kasumi closed her eyes tightly as she felt her stomach clench.

  Look to the horizon, the dragon suggested.

  Kasumi took several breaths, forcing herself to breathe evenly and deeply. Her mouth tasted both bitter and salty. She opened her eyes once more, looking ahead instead of straight down. Before her, she could see the seas go to the horizon and beyond, past the curve of the world itself. But not all was water. She could see islands to the north and east. Kimon, she thought. The demon gate on Neko-shima.

  She said, Where is Shinobi-jima?

  North, the dragon said. The furthest island to your northeast is your home.

  Kasumi drew a quick breath inward. It had been three years since she had stepped foot on Neko-shima. She wondered if she would even recognize it. She remembered the city, the Neko warriors, and even those who could turn into the tora. And she remembered the Kimon and the Guardian. But it seemed so long ago.

  A small nip on her ear brought her from her reverie. She glanced behind her to see the kitsune had slipped out of her pack and was lightly resting on her shoulder. She had been so intent on the flight that she hadn’t noticed Tenko climbing up there. See? It’s not so bad. He grinned with an odd toothy smile.

  Kasumi might have laughed had they not been in such a precarious situation. She stared at the island in the distance. It looked so much bigger than she imagined an island held by ronin and assassins. As she looked across the ocean, she thought she saw a shadow in the distance beneath the waves. Another jolt of fear shot through her.

  As if sensing her terror, the dragon turned its great head toward the shadow. The morning sun flickered off the waves as he circled away from the darkness beneath the sea. Darkness follows you, little Neko-san, but it will not approach me nor will it harm you while you are under the Shinobi’s protection.

  Do you know how I can escape it?

  The dragon said naught for a while, pushing its great legs into longer and deeper strokes. For a moment, Kasumi wondered if it had heard her. When it spoke again, its mental voice was soft. The only way for you to destroy it is to confront it. And confront it you must.

  Kasumi shivered in the cold air. She had no desire to confront the oni. I’m not strong enough.

  The dragon made no reply. Instead, it dived down toward the ocean, causing her to throw herself against the sharp spine ridges in a desperate attempt to hang on.

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  The dragon swam toward the ocean at a frightening speed. Kasumi closed her eyes and braced for the impact with the water. She was certain it would dive deep and drown her. But just as the dragon approached the water, it slowed down and leveled its flight, swooping low over the waves.

  Kasumi released her breath with a gasp, not even realizing she had held it before now. Her hands had partially morphed into tiger claws, and her skin took on faded black and orange stripes. She willed herself back into human form and tried to calm herself. The dragon continued toward the island.

  What was that about? Her mental voice held the tiger’s throaty growl.

  There is another dragon on the island, the dragon responded. While he knows we are coming, it is best that I don’t challenge his territory. The dragon’s voice was strangely reticent.

  Kasumi raised an eyebrow. She hadn’t thought about dragons and territories, but now she wondered if perhaps they were not so different from cats or tigers. The Neko tended to have their different territories, avoiding confrontation whenever possible. Could the dragons be the same way?

  The dragon skirted the island along the southeas
t side. The balmy air felt good after such a long flight in the cold, and Kasumi closed her eyes, tasting the sea breeze in her nostrils. Tenko pawed her and she opened her eyes again to view an impressive sight. A great volcanic mountain rose along the northeastern side of the island, several miles from the coast. It was larger than the other volcanoes she had seen, and smoke curled from the vent. The air held a faint tang of sulfur.

  As they headed around Shinobi-jima, coniferous forests gave way to fields of rice paddies and tea terraces. Kasumi studied them intently. From this distance, most seemed unused and overgrown. There were ruins as well, large stone palaces worn and crumbling from centuries of decay. Along the eastern part of the island, she could see a walled village or a small city. She guessed that Akira would be there, if anywhere. I didn’t know the ninja had such a large island or so many palaces, she said to the dragon. These buildings must have been abandoned a long time ago.

  Indeed, said the kitsune, startling her. The Shinobi weren’t the only ones on this island, or so I have heard.

  Who would’ve lived here?

  The kitsune shrugged. Before he could answer, the dragon dropped into the water, its legs splashing as it swam through the briny waves. The sea had turned from blue-green to a clear blue with sand beneath so white, even Kasumi longed for a swim. The dragon swam toward the shore, where miles of white sandy beach met the forests of bamboo and pine. The splash of sea spray burned her eyes, and she squinted as they splashed onto the shore.

  As the dragon’s massive claws dug into the sand, Kasumi heard Tenko yip with glee and pop out of her pack. He scampered down her arm with his sharp nails and leaped off the dragon in three jumps. The fox skittered around in the sand, digging and chasing the ghost crabs that scuttled along the beach. Despite herself, Kasumi laughed at the little fox’s antics.

  She slid off the dragon onto the warm sand, her tabi crunching as she stepped. Kasumi scanned the forest, and upon seeing no one, she sighed. It would be a long walk to the walled village if she remembered where it was in relation to where they landed. She watched as Tenko snapped at a crab. Then she turned around to thank the dragon. But there was nothing but the waves and the sky. She stared over the sea, looking for some sign of the dragon.

  “Turn around slowly, samurai.”

  Kasumi nearly jumped at the voice. She turned around, holding her hands up so the speaker could see she was not reaching for a weapon. To her surprise, she stared at ten ninja. They wore black with head coverings and masks over their noses and mouths to further conceal their identities. The ninja in the front spoke. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

  Kasumi glanced down where she had last seen Tenko, but the little kitsune had disappeared. She straightened a bit, realizing she was alone. “I am Naotaka Kasumi Neko of the Neko clan. I was told that Takeshi Akira is here on this island, and I have come to look for him.”

  The ninja considered her with his dark eyes. “Ah, Neko-san, we have been expecting you. Shigeko-shonin has asked that we bring you to our compound and show you hospitality. Come with us.”

  With that, the ninja led her into the bamboo and pine forest.

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  Akira swallowed hard as he felt the keen blade touch his neck. His thoughts raced. “Shinobi-jima? The ninja isle? That can’t be.” He wanted to turn his head and look at his attackers, but he knew they would cut his throat if he moved even a little.

  Harsh laughter fell on his ears. “You thought you were on Kyotori-jima, samurai?”

  “Must be a lousy sailor,” said another behind him. “Kyotori is hundreds of miles to the west.”

  “Where’d you come from?” the first ninja asked. “How’d you get here? There were no boats.”

  “You wouldn’t believe me,” Akira said. He tried to listen between the poundings of his own heart for the number of breaths. He counted three men, but he suspected there were more. The ninja’s breath was hot and rank on his neck. He might be able to twist and take him out with the wakizashi, but the others would kill him before he could flee.

  “Try us,” said the ninja.

  “The Tengu brought me here.”

  His statement had the expected effect. The men laughed. Akira counted the voices: three, four, five.

  Good, said Rokuro. You’re thinking. I only see five here.

  What about the ones we can’t see? Akira asked. He hated using mindspeak; he wasn’t sure if that was part of the bargain the Tengu made with him. If it were, he had already violated his promise. What’s more, mindspeak gave him a headache. Still, he had to keep his conversation silent.

  We’ll deal with them when we have to, Rokuro said.

  “Next you’ll be telling us that the Tengu plucked you from your bed and dropped you here,” the ninja hissed.

  Akira barked a short laugh. “Actually, they did,” he said. “I am Stormhammer, half Tengu.” With blinding speed, Akira grasped the hilt of the wakizashi and plunged it into the ninja’s stomach, dropping down as he did so. The man screamed but was too slow, and the ninjato cut the air where Akira had been. The other ninja had started forward, but Akira had drawn the no-dachi. The four ninja held back as though waiting for him to move.

  From behind him, Akira heard someone clapping. He turned to see a woman, dressed in black, her lower face covered so all he could see were her eyes. “Excellent, excellent, Takeshi Akira.” She paused. “Or should I call you Stormhammer?”

  Akira stared at the woman. She was armed with ninjato and carried a naginata in her hands. “Who are you?” Akira asked.

  “I am called Shigeko-shonin,” she said.

  She’s the head ninja of this clan, came Rokuro’s voice in his head. Maybe even of Shinobi-jima.

  “Very good, no-dachi,” said Shigeko.

  Akira gaped. “You can hear him?”

  Shigeko pulled her mask down. She was an older woman, but how old, Akira couldn’t guess because her face was as ageless as the Tengu women he had met. She smiled slightly. “Yes, I can hear your sword’s thoughts quite plainly.” She studied him carefully. “But your thoughts… I can’t hear them so well.”

  Silence ensued as Akira noticed that the ninja had exchanged glances. Her gaze had narrowed on him, and Akira shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, not daring to lower the no-dachi. “The Tengu brought me here,” Akira said. “They said that this was once called Imperial Island. They said I had business here.”

  Shigeko cocked her head. “They told you this was Imperial Island? Did they call it Kyotori-jima?”

  Akira hesitated. He tried to recall Windcatcher’s words. “I don’t know,” he said, at last. “I don’t remember. But I do remember he called this Imperial Island.”

  “Interesting,” Shigeko said. She walked slowly around Akira, making sure she was out of reach of the no-dachi as she did so. Akira followed her with his eyes. “You are correct. This is Imperial Island—or so it was called thousands of years ago.”

  “Thousands of years ago?” Akira stared. “Kyotori wasn’t always the seat of the emperor’s power?”

  Shigeko nodded. “But that conversation is for another time. Now we must discuss what I am to do with you.” She clapped her hands.

  In a blaze of light, Akira found he was no longer standing in the forest, but in a lofty hall with large cherrywood beams and shoji screens. A servant woman entered, bearing a tray with a teapot steaming with fresh tea and warmed cups. Another servant woman walked behind her, carrying a platter of cooked fish and rice cakes.

  Akira stared at the women a moment then at Shigeko, who calmly sat at a low table on a cushion. The servant women laid the trays down and put the bowls and platters of food on the table. The woman who carried the tea set two cups on the table: one before Shigeko and the other across from her. Shigeko looked up at him with a wry smile.

  “Are you going to sheathe your blade, Stormhammer, or are you going to cut down my servants?”

  Be careful, warned Rokuro.

 
“If I had wanted to kill him, I could’ve done so already,” Shigeko said curtly.

  Rokuro said nothing.

  Akira looked around, bemused. Seeing no other ninja, although suspecting they could appear at a moment’s notice, he slowly lowered the no-dachi and sheathed it. “Shigeko-sama, I—”

  “Do not address me thus,” said Shigeko, “for my family has not held a title for thousands of years.”

  He nodded once. “Then should I call you Shigeko-shonin or Shigeko-san?” he asked. He stepped forward and waited.

  “That will be fine,” she said. “Please be seated, Takeshi-sama. It appears our meeting was preordained.” Akira sat down and waited while she took a sip of her tea. She smiled ruefully. “There is no poison. If I had wanted to kill you—”

  “You would’ve done so already,” Akira said, taking the cup and drinking from it. The tea was flavorful, something he had never experienced before. He smiled at her curious look. “This is wonderful tea. What is it?”

  “It is called oolong. The tea is semi-fermented,” Shigeko said. “Or if you wish, we can have sake.”

  “No, thank you,” Akira said quickly.

  Shigeko smiled. “A wise choice. You wish to keep your wits about you; that the tea will do. I am glad you like it. It is somewhat rare. We get this tea from the Neko who tend the tea fields.”

  “Neko? You mean as in Naotaka Kasumi Neko?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Even now she looks for you, if you are who you say you are.”

  Akira cocked his head. “How do you know about me?”

  “Let me say the ninja have their ways,” Shigeko said. “When my people first saw you, they thought you were a lost samurai, but much to their surprise, they could not dispatch you. That is when they alerted me that a daring samurai with a naginata and no-dachi had eluded some of my best men. I’ve watched you until now, and while you seem to be Takeshi Isao’s son who was captured by Tengu, I can’t verify it.” She took some rice cakes and fish. “Here, have some. They are very good.”