The Son of Heaven nods.
Sensei pulls a cloth bundle from under his cloak, then unwraps the extra sword Onaku gave him.
The ronin reaches for it, eyes bright as he recognizes the Sword Master’s handiwork. From here I can see that the grip is unusual. It melts into the ronin’s hand, and as flesh and sword join together, I hear the blade sing. Everyone can. It drowns out the thump of the drum.
“Onaku knows how to make a proper sword.” The ronin swings the blade in a wide arc, barely missing the gold buttons on the Dragon Master’s jacket. Tucking the sword into his sash, the ronin stares into the Dragon’s eye.
“I am Mitsuka Manuyoto, son of the House of Manuyoto and former student of the Cockroach Ryu. Humble disciple of the great Ki-Yaga. No one insults my master’s name unless he wishes to face my drawn sword.” Mitsuka doesn’t yell his challenge, but his soft words shout in our ears. “I am a Little Cockroach and a destroyer of Dragons. Sheath your sword and apologize. Or fight me.”
Mitsuka is a legendary swordsman, but the Dragon is skilled, too. And a cheat.
Can the Dragon cheat enough to win?
“I don’t like this,” I mutter through gritted teeth.
Yoshi grins. “I think it will be fun.”
“What do you mean?” Kyoko whispers, worriedly twisting a stray strand of white hair.
“The Dragon Master has brought only his sword. Mitsuka has his blade and his brain. Already Mitsuka has made the Dragon so angry that he won’t even look him in the face. How can a swordsman read his opponent’s eyes if he doesn’t even look?”
“It’s true,” Mikko says. “The Dragon is a fool to fight blind. Only Taji can do that and win.”
“And I would not be so foolish as to fight Mitsuka Manuyoto,” Taji adds.
The Dragon Master raises his sword. Mitsuka watches, waiting until the last moment.
“Stop,” the Emperor commands, rising from his throne. “I do not wish to watch anyone die. There will be no fight in this room, just as there will be no war in my mountains.” He claps his hands, and an attendant appears. The sound of two hands clapping is loud and powerful when they are the Emperor’s hands.
“Place a message in the receptacle at the castle keep gate so a runner can collect it and take my decision to the mountain daimyos. The war drum must cease,” the Emperor tells his attendant. “And this foolishness must never happen again. As a measure of their loyalty, the daimyos will send their children to me. And as a measure of my esteem, I will ensure that these children receive the best training my court has to offer. Each of the daimyos has a son, and my own son has no companions. It is a perfect solution.”
Yesterday the prince made six new friends and today promises even more. The Emperor’s fingers might be fat and clumsy, but there’s nothing pudgy about his brain. The lords will do as they’re told while their sons are away. And their sons will be happy here. No one dies, and everyone wins.
Except the Dragon Master. But he hasn’t given up yet. One of the Dragon boys bows to excuse himself and leaves.
“I bet two servings of pudding there won’t be any message for the runner to find,” whispers Mikko.
But we know it doesn’t matter. The message has already been received. There are eyes and ears all over the castle, especially in the kitchen. And they all have a ninja runner’s legs.
“Instead of a duel, let us now have a friendly display of swordsmanship,” the Emperor suggests.
“Two of my students are the best in all the mountains,” Sensei says.
Nezume and Mikko step forward. The Dragon kids haven’t even moved. Remembering the Games, they don’t want to challenge us.
The Emperor is surprised. “How can a great swordfighter have only one arm?” he asks.
“Don’t be fooled, Father,” the prince says. “I’ve heard that Mikko can fight with a sword in his teeth. And yesterday he dueled against me for a gold coin without even unsheathing his blade.”
“Yes, I remember that lesson well. The true samurai doesn’t need a sword,” the Emperor says, looking at Ki-Yaga.
Sensei bows. “The Son of Heaven was always a credit to his teacher.”
“Perhaps one young Cockroach could fight a Dragon?” the Emperor suggests diplomatically.
“It would be a waste of our skill,” the Dragon Master says, bowing to the Emperor but sneering at us. “We do not waste time stomping on bugs.”
That’s because their clumsy Dragon feet would never catch us.
Placing one hand behind his back, Nezume stares into Mikko’s eyes. Cockroaches fight with honor. They wait for Sensei’s instruction.
“Draw,” he calls.
Two swords flash in the sunlight of the Emperor’s approving smile. Long arcs of steel swish. Clash. And move apart again. It’s a dance. Lizard scurry. Rat scuffle. Until Nezume’s sword point rests on Mikko’s chest.
The prince claps and cheers.
“Looks like I need . . .” Mikko waits for us to finish his sentence.
“More practice!” we yell together.
Next Mitsuka steps forward. Famous for his double swordplay, he swings the bokken with one hand and Onaku’s sword with the other.
“I am impressed,” the Emperor says. “My son is also a keen student of swordplay. Now he will demonstrate the techniques he has learned.”
It’s a solo display. It wouldn’t be appropriate to draw a sword against the prince in front of the Emperor. We’re not playing in the garden now.
The prince walks to the middle of the floor and draws his sword in a slow, fluid half circle. He strikes, then flicks it to his other hand.
“Not bad,” Mikko murmurs. “There goes my advantage. Maybe I was lucky he didn’t fight me.”
But the prince hasn’t had the benefit of Sensei’s teaching. Many of his moves are clumsy and unfinished.
“See how skilled my boy is,” the Emperor says, beaming.
“The prince is an excellent swordsman,” the Dragon Master says.
“And how would you grade him?” the Emperor asks Sensei.
Sensei is a samurai of the oldest ways. Honor before one’s own life. And it’s one of those times now.
A sharp sword hangs over Sensei’s head.
But our teacher’s voice is strong and pure. Like Onaku’s steel. “Your son is poorly trained.”
Fearful, we wait for the sword to drop and slice the silence.
When the Emperor smiles, we breathe a sigh of relief. There’s no sword after all. But we should know better than that. Just because we can’t see the blade doesn’t mean it’s not there.
“In that case, you will stay here and teach him,” the Emperor commands.
In our hearts, the sword drops with a clatter.
The Dragon Master laughs. And laughs. There’s nothing we can do. Even Sensei can’t fight his way out of this one. We wait, hoping he will raise his arms and defiantly shout, “Banzai!” Then the room will shake with the power of his ki, as it did at the Owl Dojo.
But Sensei respectfully bows his head. “As the Emperor wishes.”
The Son of Heaven’s smile isn’t warm anymore. It burns, and the White Crane cringes.
“Father . . .” the prince starts to speak.
But even a son cannot argue with the Emperor.
“You must say good-bye to your teacher,” the Emperor commands us. “Tomorrow morning you will leave with Mitsuka. I am sure Ki-Yaga will agree that you are in good hands.”
Sensei nods, holding out his staff to me. I reach into his thoughts, desperate for him to say some words of comfort.
I don’t understand, I wail soundlessly.
Sensei smiles. You must read between the lines.
But there is nothing there.
He nods, pleased. Yes. I knew you would understand.
I understand Nothing. But even Zen can’t help me this time.
The room is filled with the loud silence that sometimes falls between cicada songs. No one moves. No one speaks. The Wh
ite Crane listens hard, but Sensei is not talking anymore. Not even inside my head.
When the Emperor rings his bell, another guard appears. “Take Ki-Yaga to the yellow room and make sure he has everything he requires.”
“Is he a prisoner?” the guard asks.
The Emperor shakes his head. “There is no need to secure the door.” He knows Sensei’s honor is a stronger lock than any piece of metal.
“You may go now.” With a dismissive wave, we are separated from our teacher. It hurts. More than the thump of the war drum against my chest. More than the time I was caught in a mudslide and couldn’t breathe.
Turning, I catch the look of helplessness on the prince’s face. The Dragon Master grins triumphantly. His students smirk, twisting their fingers into half-hidden rude gestures.
“Ha!” the largest Dragon boy mouths at us.
Little Cockroaches have no heart for slaying Dragons now. Even Mikko doesn’t retort. Our feet drag, numb like our spirits. The White Crane huddles, curled in a tight ball.
Outside in the corridor, Kyoko bursts into tears.
“What will we do?” Mikko’s voice shakes.
“Should we go home?” asks Nezume.
Even Yoshi has no answers. Suddenly, we are all children, looking to Mitsuka for help.
Our ronin shrugs, unconcerned. “You do not need me to tell you what to do. I am not the one holding Sensei’s staff.”
All eyes turn to me.
“But Yoshi is our leader,” I protest, pushing the staff into his hands.
“That’s true, but” — he waves it away — “you are our teacher now.”
I can’t be. I know nothing.
Perfect, Sensei whispers.
I reach out, clutching for more advice. But it’s one last whisper and he’s gone. I’ve always wanted to be a teacher, but I’m not ready. I am still just me. Niya.
Then I understand. I am the White Crane. Brother of the Tiger, the Golden Bat, the Striped Gecko, the Snow Monkey, the Long-Tailed Rat, and the Great Bear. Friend and ally of the Owls. I am not alone.
“Don’t worry. Together we’ll work something out,” I promise. “But we can’t talk here. The castle is full of ears, and I bet the corridor is lined with listeners.”
I hop ahead in a hurry. The others rush to keep up.
“He thinks he really is Sensei now,” Mikko puffs beside me.
“Chop, chop, Little Cockroaches,” I say, teasing.
At the door to our room, Riaze is waiting, morning tea tray in hand. He already knows about Sensei. And he also knows we didn’t finish breakfast.
“I’ve come to help,” he offers.
“Thank you.” I bow, and Kyoko gives Riaze a big hug.
“Go and check that no one is spying,” Yoshi instructs Taji. “Make sure all the doors and windows are slid shut,” he tells Nezume and Mikko.
Taji takes the ninja listening cup from under his kimono and places it in turn against each of the four walls. Mikko rushes around checking windows, and Nezume ensures that the door latches are pulled tight.
The Cockroach Ryu is a family. My friends would give me the slippers off their feet. But you can’t trust just anyone you meet in the castle — anyone outside of the kitchen, anyway.
Sensei isn’t talking inside my head, but that doesn’t matter. All the lessons he ever taught us are stored there. “You must find your opponent’s weakness,” he instructed us when we struggled to ride Uma.
“What is the Emperor’s weakness?” I ask my friends.
“Bad judgment?” queries Mikko. “He took Sensei away from us.”
“No.” Yoshi shakes his head. “Keeping Sensei as his son’s teacher is a sign of good judgment.”
Kyoko sniffs, wiping her nose on her kimono sleeve. “There must be something.”
“Are you crying?” I touch her gently on the shoulder.
“Of course I’m not,” she says, her voice shaking as she shoves my hand away. “I’m just as brave as you.”
I don’t feel brave at all. I’d like to tell her that but it wouldn’t help either of us. What we need is an idea.
“Remember how the Emperor cowered when the candles burned out?” Nezume asks. “He is very superstitious.”
“That’s it! The prince said the Emperor is terrified of tengu most of all,” I exclaim.
Jumping and hopping, we slap each other on the back, celebrating our cleverness and Sensei’s imminent return.
But Mitsuka stands apart with an amused smile on his face. “All you need to do now is find a tengu.”
Defeated, Kyoko flops onto the floor. “It’s a terrible plan. We’ll never get Sensei back.”
“Sometimes students must think hard to remember their lessons,” counsels Mitsuka, helping Kyoko to her feet.
“It’s true. Only a blind kid can see what is right under his nose.” Taji shakes his head in exasperation at all of us. “What does Sensei say?”
“You don’t have to see something to know it’s there,” we chorus.
“We just have to make the Emperor think it is,” Riaze agrees. “Ninja use tricks like that all the time, and a superstitious man is easy to fool.”
But Nezume is still unsure. “Is it right to deceive the Emperor?” he asks.
“It’s the only way,” I insist. “Sensei gave his word. He’ll never leave without the Emperor’s permission.”
Mikko flaps his arms like wings. “I could make a crow noise. Croak. Croak.”
“Terrible,” we groan.
“You sound like a frog. This is a crow.” Kyoko clears her throat. “Caw, caw.”
“We could use black ink to dye an owl feather from Sensei’s staff,” Yoshi suggests.
“And I could use my new ninja skills to make an exploding egg.” Mikko waves his arm excitedly. “We can put the feather inside and poof! When the smoke clears, the Emperor will see a tengu feather. He’ll be scared stiff.”
Mitsuka’s eyes shine with Sensei’s familiar twinkle. “How will that make the Emperor release Ki-Yaga?”
“We’ll use blood-colored ink to write Ki-Yaga’s name on the feather,” I say. A name written in red is a bad sign, even on a lucky day. “The Emperor will want Sensei to go as far away as possible.”
We’re all thinking the same thing. Soon we’ll be safely back at the Cockroach Ryu.
“We need to hurry,” Riaze says. “The Son of Heaven will be in the library reading now. It’s the perfect opportunity. I’ll distract the samurai guards while Kyoko uses her new shuriken throwing skills to roll Mikko’s egg at the Emperor’s feet.”
We work quickly to put our plan into action. We can’t afford to fail. We’re not battling for a trophy like at the Samurai Trainee Games. The prize is much more important than that. But the Cockroach Ryu is a powerful team. And we’ve got an Owl Ninja and a famous swordsman to help us.
The egg lands in exactly the right place. Kyoko caws loudly. We are creeping away when I hear the pfflt of the explosion as the egg breaks open, delivering our message. I can imagine the Emperor’s fear: I wish we didn’t have to frighten him. But we’re desperate to rescue Sensei.
Time crawls as we wait in our room, listening to the flurry of the castle responding to its Emperor’s cries. Soon the gong will sound and the Emperor will call us into his presence to announce Sensei’s release.
We wait for the summons. We wait and wait.
Finally, Mitsuka gets to his feet. “I’ll go and see what is happening.”
We wait again. But this time it’s not for long.
Mitsuka appears in the doorway at the same time as Riaze. Both their faces tell the same story — and it’s not good news.
“The Emperor is terrified,” Riaze says in a rush. “He believes the time of the tengu prophecy from his unrepeatable stories has begun. He wants Sensei by his side to help and advise him.”
Our plan has backfired. Who would have thought things could get worse? We huddle together miserably.
“I should have consi
dered what the tengu might have said to the Emperor,” I mumble.
“It’s not your fault.” Mikko tries to comfort me. “We all agreed on the plan.”
“And next we’ll try a new plan,” Yoshi says. “Niya will think of something else. He always does.”
If only it was that easy. I grip Sensei’s staff for support, wishing I could ask his advice. “Yoshi is right. We can’t give up. How many times did we compete in the Trainee Games before we were successful? It takes more than one spark to start a fire.”
Taji smiles. “That sounds like something Sensei would say.”
“I made it up myself,” I say, beaming.
As I look at my friends’ faces, the room is full of bright sparks. Surely not even the Emperor could stand firm against all our spirits working together.
“Do you remember the scroll in my grandfather’s tearoom?” I ask.
Riaze recites:
“The rat scuttles, the big cat creeps, the monkey dashes,
The bat glides, the white crane soars, the lizard darts,
And the owl hoots
In the middle of the night.”
“How do you know?” Taji asks, amazed. “You weren’t even there.”
“I helped Niya’s grandfather with the calligraphy.”
It makes sense now. The fireworks. The long disappearances. And falling asleep at the inn. Not an old man’s laziness, but a ninja watching through half-closed eyes. My grandfather is an Owl, too. He knew the time would come when I would need to be reminded of the power of friendship.
“Tonight we’ll help the White Crane deliver a new message from the tengu. This time we’ll frighten the Emperor into releasing Sensei,” I say.
Taji grins. “That’s excellent. He’ll think he’s seen a ghost.”
In my mind, the White Crane raises its wings in the moonlight and the haunting begins.
“We’ll need a way to get past the samurai guards,” says Yoshi.
A samurai guarding the Emperor would be a skilled and fearsome foe. The sort of warrior we all hope to be one day.
“I can help.” Opening his hands, Riaze reveals a pill in each palm. One brown. One cloudy gray. “Do you want the samurai to doze for the night, or will I send them to sleep forever?”
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