Owl Ninja

by Sandy Fussell

  “Yoh-oh-oh-oh,” the Ninja Master’s voice howls across the room. Nezume shivers, and Taji covers his ears.

  Yoshi roars. The ronin growls. And the White Crane screeches. Aye-ee-yah. Aye-ee-yah.

  Slowly, Sensei raises his arms. The room begins to quiver like an earthquake. The nightingale floor creaks and groans. Even the air trembles.

  “Banzai!” he bellows.

  When he lowers his arms, the world stills.

  “That felt good,” he says. “Now I am hungry enough to eat a horse.”

  He’s lucky Uma didn’t hear that!

  After lunch our time is our own. But we know what we need to do. More ninja practice.

  Sensei and the ronin are already practicing under the cherry tree again. I would like to learn to sleep and watch at the same time.

  You will, Sensei whispers. The skill is strong in your family.

  No, it’s not. When Father sleeps, he doesn’t hear a thing. Not even Ayame and me arguing. And we’re louder than a throng of pitta birds.

  Sensei shakes his head. He doesn’t mean Father. Who is always asleep in the corner?

  He means Grandfather!

  “Come with me now. I will show you my special talent,” Ako says. “Do you want to know why I am called Rice Boy?”

  He leads us to a room where the floors shine with wax. “Watch this.” He runs across the room, without slipping.

  “You try,” he dares us.

  Nezume accepts the challenge first and lands on his backside. Mikko slides in behind him.

  “I’m impressed, but what’s that got to do with rice?” I call from the safety of the doorway.

  Ako returns at full speed to stand beside me. Taking a handful of rice from his pocket, he strews it over the floor. More slippery than ice! He runs across the room again, feet flying and skidding on the grains. But he doesn’t even stumble. He makes it look easy.

  But it’s not. Riaze follows, almost making it to the middle before he drops with a thump. Yoshi slumps beside him, and Nezume tumbles on top of them both. The rest of us skid to form a heap of flailing arms and legs.

  “Yoh. Yah.” Yelling, Ako launches himself on top of the pile. But we don’t need to shout. The room is filled with the most powerful ki of all — friendship.

  Nightfall is our signal to leave.

  “I have a parting gift for each of you,” the Ninja Master says.

  Riaze and Ako step forward, their arms piled high with belts and daggers.

  Once I would have sneered at ninja weaponry. But we have learned many things at the Owl Dojo, and one of those things is respect. The ninja blade might not sing like a sword, but it speaks powerful words of fellowship.

  “We thank you, Master,” Sensei says. “My students will keep your secrets safe.”

  The ninja have numerous places to hide their secrets — pockets filled with stars, knives in their boots, black powder in the end of their walking sticks, and scabbards with false bottoms. But a samurai uniform, with its layers of folds and wraps, has just as many perfect hiding places.

  We bow low, proud to scrape our foreheads in the dust of the dojo floor.

  “Return with honor, Little Cockroaches,” the Ninja Master calls after us as we follow Sensei into the dark street.

  Tu-whit. Tu-whoo.

  “See you in the castle kitchen,” Riaze says, hooting with soft laughter.

  The air echoes with the noise of owls. And one lone wolf howl.

  It’s hard to sleep with all the shouting.

  “Get up, old man!” the soldier bellows. “You can’t lie here. You’re blocking the castle keep gateway.”

  Sensei yawns, loud and wide. “Pardon?” There’s nothing wrong with his ears. Ki-Yaga can hear a crane feather rustle, but sometimes he likes to pretend.

  “Where did you come from? There’s no record of you or your companions entering the main gate.” The soldier grabs Sensei’s traveling stick. That’s not a good idea.

  Slowly, the ronin opens one eye. He doesn’t want to miss the fun.

  Sensei’s long, skinny leg strikes to trip the soldier.

  Clump-fmp.

  Standing, our teacher is suddenly taller, louder, and more frightening than the ogres in Grandfather’s stories.

  “I am Ki-Yaga. Master of the Cockroach Ryu. Former Imperial Teacher and Royal Bodyguard. The Emperor is expecting me, and while I do not expect much in return, I deserve better treatment than this.”

  Ki-Yaga’s name has always opened doors. And now that it has been mentioned, the gates to the castle keep swing apart.

  Kneeling, the soldier waits bare-necked for Sensei to draw his sword.

  Instead, Sensei gently taps the man on the shoulder. “We all make mistakes,” he says.

  I want to ask Sensei about his mistake, but this isn’t the time.

  “My humble apologies, Sensei.” On his feet again, the soldier takes charge. “We were instructed to watch for your arrival, but I did not expect to find you already inside the main gate.” He barks an order, and guards rush to escort us through every gate between here and the Emperor’s residence.

  Beard flapping and cloak flying, Sensei strides between the soldiers. He’s enjoying this! And so are we. The ronin puffs out his chest and swaggers, hand on his wooden sword. Kyoko giggles, waving to the people who line the streets and stare. If I had a drum, I would beat it proudly. Ta-thum. Thum-thump. We’ve come to stop the mountains from going to war.

  At the entrance to the main building, a man is waiting. He wears a richly brocaded jacket and long baggy pants that drag across the floor. His snake-green eyes glitter with intelligence and authority. This is a man with an important job. Maybe the Emperor chose him especially to keep an eye on Sensei’s head.

  “Honored guests.” The green-eyed court attendant bows. “The Emperor has asked me to greet you on his behalf. I will show you to your quarters. If there is anything you need, ring this bell to summon a servant boy.”

  He hands Sensei a gold bell. “Hot baths and clean clothes are waiting for you.” His gaze slides down his nose to tell us our cockroach-brown traveling robes will not do here in the Emperor’s compound.

  We follow the attendant to a small building in the Imperial Garden.

  “Breakfast will be delivered shortly. The castle has an excellent kitchen,” our guide says.

  We already know that. If I’m lucky, the meal will be Riaze’s miso soup and Rice Boy’s porridge.

  The attendant’s eyes narrow as he searches Sensei’s face. “I have heard that you mysteriously appeared on the castle keep steps.”

  Sensei says nothing. The silent tension wraps itself around our throats. Mikko coughs, and the ronin scratches his neck.

  Suspicious eyes drill even deeper. “Perhaps our guards were asleep or drunk when you passed through the main gate.”

  I don’t like the sound of this. Someone could get into serious trouble. Maybe even lose a body part.

  “Sir,” I say, bowing low. “Do not punish the soldiers. No one can see Sensei if he does not want them to. Not even we can find him when he chooses to hide from our constant questions.”

  The man laughs, and the tension releases its fingers from our necks. “The deeds of Ki-Yaga are famous. I have heard he can walk through walls and disappear into the night. But I see he has worked even greater magic. He has taught his students honor and good manners. Unlike some others, constantly ringing their bell.”

  That sounds just like the Dragon Master and his students.

  Bowing, the attendant takes his leave. The slap of silk against the floor tracks his departure. Sensei says the Emperor is afraid of assassins. He wants to ensure he can hear everyone coming and going. Especially those on their way across his nightingale floor.

  Tap-tap. Tap.

  Nezume opens the door cautiously, hoping it’s not the Dragon Master.

  It is another attendant, older and taller but with the same baggy trousers.

  “I have a message for Ki-Yaga, sense
i of the Cockroach Ryu,” he says, eyes round and respectful. Our teacher is a living legend, the most famous samurai to still have his head on his shoulders. At least for now.

  The attendant hesitates. It’s not good news. But Sensei smiles encouragingly.

  “The M-m-aster of the D-d-d-ragon Ryu sends you a greeting,” the attendant stutters. He stares at the bamboo matting. He looks at his slippers, and he even stares at my one foot.

  “Please continue,” says Sensei. “I will not hold you accountable for another’s rude words.”

  We know the message anyway. Beware the Dragon.

  The attendant swallows loudly, but he speaks in an embarrassed whisper. “How many cockroach wings can a dragon’s breath singe?”

  It is a great insolence for the Dragon to threaten a man under the Emperor’s roof. But Sensei is not insulted. His eyes gleam.

  “The Dragon Master is finally wise enough to consult the bugs.”

  My eyes twinkle, too. This is a traditional saying that Grandfather uses all the time. If you need to know something, ask the bugs. Bugs can sense shifts in the world around them and predict what might happen next.

  This Cockroach predicts that Sensei will wield his words like a sword and cut the Dragon’s ears to kite ribbons.

  “Tell the Dragon Master that I do not have time to teach him to count. I suggest he use his fingers and toes,” Sensei says.

  The attendant leaves, grinning. We bathe quickly and eat breakfast even faster. The Owl Ninja truly are excellent cooks.

  “Will the Emperor still want to punish you, Sensei?” Kyoko is worried.

  “Only when I least expect it,” says Ki-Yaga.

  “Are you expecting it today?” I ask.

  Sensei picks a rice grain from his teeth. “No, I am not.”

  Now we’re all nervous.

  Tap-tap. Another knock.

  “The Emperor is ready to see you,” the attendant announces.

  Sensei teaches us that seeing is not important. You must feel. It is too late when you see an army approaching, but if you feel the ground shake, you will expect them before they arrive. You will have the advantage and be prepared.

  “You must learn to be like Taji,” our master says. “Taji is not distracted by what he can’t see.”

  Wiping his hands on his beard, Sensei is ready to go. But the ronin is still eating.

  “Aren’t you coming?” Yoshi asks him.

  “I’ll wait here,” he answers. “I have no interest in bowing to the Emperor with my stomach only half full. I am loyal to my teacher and will come running when he needs me. But he does not need me now.”

  Yoshi would like to stay and help him eat but Sensei hurries us along. “Chop, chop, Little Cockroaches.”

  It’s tricky to hop in long, trailing trousers. The Emperor will have no trouble hearing me approach; I’ll probably trip at his feet. Two soldiers escort us into the waiting alcove. The Dragon Master is already there. His cloak gleams with gold embroidery, and his helmet is plumed with owl and crane feathers.

  We wait in opposite corners, gazes slicing across the room like sword swipes in a battle.

  “Someone should stuff an explosive inside his helmet,” Mikko whispers.

  Grinning, I remember the hole in the Owl Dojo wall. But Sensei doesn’t think it’s funny. He shakes his head to remind us of our manners.

  Two Dragon kids stand beside their master. We recognize the largest boy. He purposely broke Kyoko’s hand at the Games last year.

  “I’d like to break his fingers,” Yoshi mumbles through clenched teeth. He could do it, too. He’s bigger and stronger than the Dragon boy.

  Mikko is small, but his one hand is very powerful. “Let me,” he mutters. Mikko could crush even Yoshi’s fingers if he wanted to.

  “No,” counsels Sensei. “It is not an eye for an eye and a hand for a hand.”

  Nezume fidgets nervously. “Why must we wait so long?”

  “The Emperor will be consulting his advisers to make sure this is a lucky day for making important decisions,” Sensei says.

  How can a day be lucky? If it’s lucky for us, it’s not lucky at all for the Dragons.

  “His Excellency is ready to receive you,” an attendant proclaims.

  The two soldiers usher us into a larger room where the Son of Heaven sits on a golden throne, swathed in layers of yellow silk. Biting my lip, I hide my disappointment. The man behind the expensive wrapping doesn’t look impressive at all. He is short and round like a rice dumpling, and his fingers are too pudgy even to hold a sword.

  Then he smiles.

  Sensei is always right. It is not what you see that matters, but what you feel. When the Emperor smiles, the sun reaches down to pat each one of us on the back. The White Crane opens its wings to the warmth.

  Grandfather likes to tell stories about the Emperor. “The Son of Heaven makes the crops grow and the rice flourish. But his displeasure can fill the sky with thunder, and when he is angry, lightning shoots from his fingers.”

  He wouldn’t need to hold a sword, then. Maybe he’s a ninja.

  But in the final battle, great power cannot overcome great fear. Good-luck charms hang from vantage points all over the room. Beside the throne candles burn. Only a brave ghost would dare set foot in this room filled with talismans to keep the spirits away.

  Removing his helmet with a flourish, the Dragon Master bows.

  “Welcome,” the Emperor says.

  When Sensei bows, it is a simple gesture of great respect, like rice stalks bending in the breeze.

  The Emperor stands. “Teacher,” he murmurs, kneeling to touch his forehead against Sensei’s feet.

  “I would like to introduce my newest students,” says Ki-Yaga.

  We stand tall and proud. The Emperor is puzzled by what he sees. A one-legged boy leaning between a one-armed boy and a bigger, broad-shouldered one. A white-haired girl holding the hand of a blind boy. Another boy nervously watching the door.

  “Are these the students who won the Samurai Trainee Games?” he asks.

  Sensei nods.

  “Cheats,” a Dragon kid hisses.

  The Son of Heaven is not as wise as Sensei, but he is not foolish.

  “I see you have chosen your students carefully, Ki-Yaga. You always did.” He bows to us. “It is a great honor to share your teacher.

  “As you know,” he says, resuming the throne, “the Shogun requires me to adjudicate on local matters such as those you bring to the castle court today. You may present your claims. Who will speak first?”

  Sensei doesn’t move, but the Dragon Master pushes forward. We remember what our teacher has taught us. The slow swordsman needs to go first, to get a head start. A duel of words has begun, and the Dragon Master is behind already.

  His voice booms. “I bring a request from both the Lord of the South Mountains and the Lord of the North Mountains. They cordially remind the Son of Heaven that it was his father who sanctioned the Shogun’s grant of their daimyo lands. They ask to be allowed to fight their own battles. To wage their own war.”

  “You have this in writing?” The Emperor leans forward.

  Nodding, the Dragon doesn’t even try to hide his smirk. He thinks he has won. But Sensei has not opened his mouth yet, and his wisdom can cut through ten rolls of matting.

  “I have it here, tucked in my belt.”

  When the Dragon Master moves to open the scroll, the Emperor raises his hand. “I will hear Ki-Yaga speak now.”

  The Dragon puffs and blows, but Sensei’s voice breathes gently. “I ask the Emperor to intercede and stop this war before death strips the mountains. I do not bring a scroll. I keep my words where all important things belong, between my heart and my sword.”

  “Does anyone else wish to speak before I make my decision?” The Emperor’s gaze includes us, and Yoshi steps forward.

  “I would like to ask the Dragon Master a question. Why would any master want his students to fight?”

  The Dragon
’s chest bloats with pride and the opportunity to teach Ki-Yaga’s Cockroaches a lesson. “Because my students will emerge victorious and win great honor.”

  Nezume shakes his head. “They will be covered in blood.”

  “Or even worse,” Sensei says, “they will be covered in cloth.”

  Dead.

  BONG.

  A gong sounds and the Emperor rises. “I have other business to attend to. I will think upon your requests and view the scroll in the morning.”

  BONG. Another gong sounds to dismiss us. The Dragon Master shoves past with a swish of red and gold. But Ki-Yaga waits.

  “I have a gift from Sword Master Onaku.” Sensei takes a package from under his robe, offering it to the Emperor.

  Short, fat fingers grip the hilt perfectly. The sword sings, a song fit for its king.

  “Not even an Emperor’s riches can pay for a weapon like this,” the Son of Heaven says as he caresses the hilt. “Tell Onaku his gift is gratefully accepted. Perhaps your students would like to spend some time with my son in the Imperial Water Garden?”

  The Dragon kids aren’t invited!

  We know the way. We saw the water lilies from the window in our room.

  “I’ll meet you there.” Taji winks. He’s going off on his own to listen in and spy out information.

  But before he can leave, the Emperor’s scream cuts through our plans. His face whiter than Kyoko’s hair, the Emperor points to where the three candles closest to the throne are no longer alight. Four still burn, but this is the worst number of all, a disastrous omen. The Emperor collapses on his throne.

  Quickly, Sensei moves to relight the candles. “It is only a warning,” our master says. “You have been given the opportunity to prevent many deaths.”

  Sensei waves us away and we’re glad to go, eager to play in the garden. The Emperor is in good hands. Sensei is a renowned healer who can set broken pieces of both body and mind.

  The Imperial Water Garden is huge, with an enormous pond covered in pink and white flowers. In the middle of the pond is an island, and standing at the water’s edge is a boy about our age.