by M. H. Bonham
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.
Akira nodded.
“Then I feel we were destined to meet.” She paused and stood up.
Akira rose as well and looked around. The ninja had stopped their training and now stood in formation.
“Your tests await, my young Takeshi.”
Chapter Seventy-One
Akira stared at the ninja as they stood row upon row just behind the bridge. There seemed to be no apparent color or uniform designation that suggested some were greater than the others. What was his test? Would he have to fight all these ninja? It would be impossible unless he could call the storms.
He glanced at Shigeko before turning back to the ninja. “What do you want me to do?”
Shigeko smiled, drawing her sleeve up to her face in quiet laughter. “No, Stormhammer, you do not have to fight them all.”
That’s a relief, Windspirit said.
Akira almost nodded in agreement.
“Your first test is to prove you have the physical skills of a Tengu,” Shigeko said. She pointed to the sandy area where the ninja had been practicing kata. Somehow the sand had been smoothed out after the ninja had left it, but Akira had seen no one come by to rake it. He frowned. No doubt this was more ninja magic. “Your first task is to walk across the sand to my ninja and not leave a mark.” She then pointed to the bamboo stakes. “You must then climb up the bamboo ladder and back down without falling.” She then motioned to three ninja who stepped forward. “Then you
must show your skill against three of my ninja in combat.” She smiled.
How can you expect him to do this without becoming Tengu? Windspirit objected.
“No, it’s all right,” Akira said hastily, noting the anger growing in Shigeko’s eyes. “I can do this.”
No, you can’t, Windspirit said. You can’t be serious.
Quiet, Akira said. She can hear you, but she can’t hear me, remember?
The sword fell into a sullen silence.
“Are you through arguing with that sword of yours?” Shigeko said icily.
“Yes,” he said. He bowed low and walked slowly toward the bridge, his mind whirling. How was he going to walk across the sand without disturbing it? As a Tengu, he could do it simply by flying...
Don’t think like a Tengu, came Windspirit’s voice. It was soft and Akira knew he was trying to keep the conversation private. The ninja can do this; so can you.
But they’ve had practice – and you’ve seen their magic. They’re not entirely human.
Nor are you.
Akira tried to clear his mind. He could walk carefully over the sand and make no noise. But it wasn’t the same as walking without a trace. He frowned as he walked solemnly across the bridge. He glanced at the stream as it chattered against the rocks and caught sight of the bright orange koi as they splashed in the water. If this had been anywhere else, he would have probably stopped and watched the stream as it flowed and the fish and they leapt after insects, but it brought him little joy...
But why is that?
Akira almost jumped. He turned his head to the speaker who sat, almost invisible, upon one of the larger stones in the stream. The kami’s watery appearance implied she was the kami of that particular stream. He smiled, tight lipped, and nodded to her. I am sorry I cannot show my proper respect, lady kami, but I must perform Shigeko’s first task.
Ah, Shigeko. The kami nodded, turning her large, luminous eyes toward the ninja at the other side of the bridge. But you have shown proper respect, my young Stormhammer. You left some of your meal at one of my shrines.
Akira stopped and turned to face her. He knew the ninja would wonder what he was doing, but did not care. He bowed. My lady, I...
You did not expect aid, I know, but for your kindness, you shall get it. What is it they ask?
That I walk across the sand and leave no mark.
She laughed and her voice was like the stream as it splashed against the rock. That is easy enough. Do your best, Stormhammer. I will take care of all.
Akira bowed again. Thank you, lady kami. He stepped off the bridge and placed a careful foot onto the sand. He took another step and another, his feet making light marks in the sand. He frowned. How could he possibly not make some sort of impression without flying?
Trust the kami, came Windspirit’s voice, soft in his mind. I sense no deception on her part.
He continued at his slow, stealthy pace, mindful of each step that made an indentation. Still, he would not falter. If the kami said she would help him, then help him she would.
Just as he stepped off the sand and onto the grass, his foot splashed into a puddle. He turned around and looked. Water rushed across the sand as the stream overflowed its banks. Akira stared, wide eyed as he watched the water erase all evidence of his passing. He turned to look at the ninja, and they, too, stared at the water in shock. Shigeko crossed the bridge to gaze at the sand then met Akira’s gaze.
“That is most impressive,” she said.
Akira let his breath exhale slowly. He had not even realized he had been holding it. He felt the kami’s caress against his feet as the water receded. “Thank you,” he said.
You are most welcome, young Stormhammer.
“The second physical trial?” Shigeko brought him back to the present.
He nodded and looked at the bamboo stakes. The lower ones would be easy to walk on, but the higher ones would be very difficult.
This is something you can do, Windspirit said. I’ve seen your balance.
Akira nodded. He leaped to the first bamboo stake and carefully placed his foot on the second one. One by one, he stepped onto the stakes until he was at the top of the highest poles.
Then he felt more than heard the ninja magic as they called the wind. He turned to see Shigeko with her arms raised as she chanted a spell in a language he had never heard. Suddenly he was surrounded by the swirling winds from the east and south. The kami danced around him as he fought to hold his balance. The poles swayed dangerously under his weight.
They have tricked you, Windspirit said.
Akira hopped to the lower pole and almost lost his balance as the South Wind blew by him. For a moment, the kami paused then turned to face him.
Stormhammer? she whispered his name.
“South Wind?” he said, forgetting to use mindspeak.
Stormhammer! The South Wind’s voice was one of recognition and delight. She swirled around him playfully.
South Wind, he whispered to her in his mind. If I fall, I am dead.
Why? came the strong, masculine voice of another, and Akira recognized it as the voice of the East Wind.
The ninja will not let me live if I do not pass their tests.
For a few moments, he heard the two winds speak in their blustery voices, but they were distant and unsubstantial, so he did not understand the conversation. The bamboo beneath him swayed dangerously.
Stormhammer, the East Wind said, you have been kind to our brethren, even when you controlled us as a Tengu. We will not let you fall. With that, the East Wind caught the bamboo. The bamboo became strong and rigid with the wind’s support. Akira walked easily down from the bamboo. Only when he reached the ground did he turn to bow to them.
Thank you, my friends, he whispered in mindspeak.
We do not forget those who have treated us kindly, the kami said and disappeared.
Akira turned to see Shigeko watching him curiously. “Who are you who can speak to the winds and the water?”
Akira bowed but did not answer. He could not make promises that the water or the wind would obey him as it had when he was a Tengu. Most kami were fickle creatures, choosing to aid whomever they deemed worthy. Today he had been worthy; tomorrow he might not be.
“You have one more challenge,” Shigeko said.
Chapter Seventy-Two
Akira nodded, stepping forward. “Where do you wish us to fight?” Even as he said it, he felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck. He turned in time to see a masked ninja bring a sword in a downward arc to slice into him. Akira moved just in time to let the blade’s edge pass close. At the same time, he drew Windspirit.
The no-dachi came alive in his hands. He turned, slashing at the ninja who had nearly killed him. The no-dachi cut into the ninja’s shoulder and sliced through the collarbone and into the chest. A feminine shriek emanated from the ninja as she collapsed.
Before Akira could react, he heard the sounds of shuriken thrown at him. Letting his instincts and Windspirit’s blade guide him, he whirled around, cutting the shuriken as they spun at his body. The force of his cuts sent the pieces scattering in all directions. The ninja with the shuriken disappeared in a puff of smoke, but Akira was already turning toward where he knew the attacker would materialize. The ninja leaped at him, catching Windspirit’s blade between two metal-clawed hands. But even as he did, Windspirit’s blade bit deeply, and the man screamed in agony as the no-dachi cut through the metal and through his hand, taking one off in a shower of blood.
Akira turned, his face splattered red with his enemies’ blood. He didn’t bother wiping it away. It would be an unnecessary motion, and he knew he looked even more formidable with it there. The one ninja who was left, turned in a whirlwind and disappeared in a shower of dust. Akira waited, ready for the next attacker. None came.
Shigeko clapped her hands. She stood up from the table. “You have done admirably, my young Takeshi.”
Akira looked down at the two who had fallen. The woman lo
oked up with unseeing eyes that seemed strangely familiar behind the mask. He pulled down the mask to see Masako’s dead face.
“She would’ve killed me,” he said softly. Still, his stomach clenched at the thought he had killed a woman he had known.
She wasn’t very pleasant, Windspirit said gruffly.
That isn’t a good reason to kill her, Akira retorted. Yet she had tried to kill him to prove to Shigeko that he was an imposter. She hated him because he was samurai.
A man’s sobs brought him out of his reverie. The injured ninja cradled the stump of his arm next to his chest; a deepening circle of blood cast a red sheen against the black Shinobi shozoku. He looked up, meeting Akira’s gaze.
“It is your choice as to what we do with him,” Shigeko said softly.
Akira frowned. A samurai would be expected to commit seppuku, but the man before him was not samurai. He stared into the ninja’s eyes.
What would you have me do?
The man’s gazed shifted quickly away, and he flinched as though he had been struck.
Look at me, Akira thought to him. What is it you wish?
The man looked up into Akira’s gaze with astonishment. To live.
Akira nodded.
The man is without honor, Windspirit said scathingly.
Akira thought back to his capture and imprisonment by the Tengu. If he had followed samurai tenets, he should have committed seppuku. Yet he, too, had chosen to live. There is no wrong in wanting to live, Akira said to the sword. He turned to Shigeko. “This man fought admirably. I wish this man to live.”
Shigeko inclined her head. “Go, Naomasa. Stormhammer has spared your life.”
Naomasa looked from Shigeko to Akira, surprise in his eyes. He bowed clumsily and hurried to leave. Several ninja rushed to him and helped him walk off.
Shigeko smiled. “For a samurai, you show great compassion, Stormhammer.”
Akira shrugged. He turned to Masako’s body only to find it gone. “What of Masako?”
“It was her honor to die for the clan.”
Akira looked down at the bloodstained grass. Shigeko’s statement gave him no comfort. “So now you believe I am who I say I am.”