The Race for the Shogun's Treasure

by Nick Falk

  About the Book

  When the Great Bear is stolen from Edo Castle, the samurai and the ninja face battle once again!

  The shōgun has promised that whoever finds his most prized possession will be named ruler of the Hidden Valley. The race is on and the samurai and ninja will do anything to find it first!

  Nab your nunchucks and shine your shuriken — another great Samurai vs Ninja battle is about to begin!

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Glossary

  Copyright Notice

  Loved the book?

  For Nick, the silliest samurai I have ever met

  – Tony Flowers

  For Chloe-San, the shōgunista, and the three all-powerful mini-shōguns, Adam, Luke and Olivia

  – Nick Falk

  On Honshu, the largest island in Japan, is a city called Tokyo.

  Three hundred years ago, Tokyo was called Edo. The streets were dark and dusty. The houses were made of paper.

  It was a city of mystery and magic.

  It was midnight. Somewhere in the darkness a pig snuffled. Nearby an old man picked his nose. But nobody noticed. There were no lightbulbs in Edo Period Japan.

  A thief, dressed in black, raced through the city streets.

  The thief wore soft-soled tabi boots, silencing each footstep. The thief was heading for Edo Castle, home of the shōgun.

  The shōgun was ruler of all Japan. He was as mighty as a mountain and as powerful as a peregrine falcon. No-one dared disobey him.

  No-one, except for one.

  Two hulking guards stood by the castle gates. The thief pulled a bamboo straw from a secret pocket.

  Two dried peas zipped through the air.

  The guards collapsed to the ground.

  The thief stopped, crouched down low and listened.

  The thief had come to steal the shōgun’s greatest treasure – Oguma-za the Great Bear.

  The thief had come back for revenge.

  ‘WAKE UP!’ Kingyo-Sama raised the fish and slapped the samurai across the face.

  The samurai squawked and tumbled from his bed. He had only slept for two hours.

  His head felt like a pot of sticky custard. But he had to obey.

  In the far north of Japan, at the peak of the Tiger’s Claw, was Castle Kemushi (the hairy caterpillar). This was the home of the samurai.

  Kingyo-Sama was head of the samurai. He was esteemed Master Goldfish, and here his word was law.

  The samurai practised the art of Nodo no Kingyo, the Way of the Thirsty Goldfish. It was an ancient martial art, passed down from the Great Shark himself.

  ‘A goldfish needs no sleep!’ barked Kingyo-Sama, marching up the line of semi-dozing samurai.

  ‘We must always be alert! We must always be on guard! Danger lurks around every corner!’

  He raised the fish above his head. ‘Let morning practice commence!’

  Staggering and groaning, the samurai followed him outside.

  Across the Hidden Valley, at the peak of the Dragon’s Tooth, was Castle Baka-Tori (the idiot chicken), home of the ninja. In the largest room of the tallest tower, Buta-Sama opened one eye.

  Buta-Sama was head of the ninja. He liked to sleep. He was very, very good at it. In a sleeping contest between the greatest sleepers in the world, Buta-Sama would have won.

  Buta-Sama reached for his telescope. He balanced it on his belly and peered through the lens.

  The samurai were out on the walls of Castle Kemushi, sparring with their swords. Most of them were too tired to lift their arms. Kingyo-Sama stalked amongst them, slapping shirkers with his trusty fish.

  ‘Idiotic samurai,’ grumbled Buta-Sama.

  Buta-Sama leaned over and eyed the poopy-pot under his bed. It was full. There were no toilets in Edo Period Japan.

  Someone was knocking on the gates of Castle Kemushi.

  Kingyo-Sama smacked a snoozing samurai and sent him scurrying to see who it was.

  ‘Whoever it is, tell them to come back after breakfast!’ Kingyo-Sama barked.

  But the scuttling samurai did no such thing.

  He returned, red-faced, his eyes bulging.

  he stammered.

  Kingyo-Sama’s knees wobbled.

  A hatamoto. A personal guard of the shōgun himself. A warrior of ancient legend.

  Kingyo-Sama could hardly breathe. His eyes were fixed upon the gate.

  And he was not disappointed. Out of the shadows emerged an awesome figure. A giant in a jet-black kimono, clutching a glittering sword, riding an enormous armoured horse.

  The hatamoto climbed off his horse. He stepped into the moonlight. He opened his mouth to speak and …

  SPLAT!

  It started raining ninja poo.

  The hatamoto was covered from head to foot. It went in his hair, up his nose and down his silk kimono. He was not pleased. Not one bit. He growled:

  Kingyo-Sama nodded, face as white as a ghost’s backside.

  enquired the hatamoto.

  Kingyo-Sama cringed as he replied.

  He waited for the hatamoto to draw his sword. He knew the punishment for pooing on a hatamoto. Death. By beheading.

  ‘Hmm …’ rumbled the hatamoto, wiping his sticky forehead. ‘Strange weather you have in these parts.’

  Kingyo-Sama was saved. Hatamoto were brave. But they weren’t very clever.

  The mighty warrior pulled a scroll from his sleeve. He cleared his throat.

  ‘In the name of the shōgun, Kingyo-Sama and his samurai are called to Edo Castle. A mighty quest awaits you!’

  ‘Me?’ gasped Kingyo-Sama. ‘The shōgun wants me?’

  ‘Yes!’ boomed the hatamoto. ‘You are to leave at once!’

  And with that the hatamoto departed, ignoring the poo trickling into his ear.

  Kingyo-Sama’s heart was pounding. I can’t believe it, he thought. The shōgun has called for me. Finally my moment has come!

  Kingyo-Sama closed his eyes. He smiled. This is what he imagined:

  The shōgun will make me Hatamoto-sama, Lord of Goldfish. Buta-Sama will be forced to bow before me.

  I will abolish all of the ninja, kick them out of Castle Baka Tori, and make them live in pigsties.

  I will force them to work in the vegetable garden and wear underpants on their heads.

  On weekends I will make them eat poo pie.

  Without cream.

  I will be very, very happy.

  Kingyo-Sama was fuming. Smoke was coming out of his ears. He was standing in the great hall of Edo Castle, his samurai in strict formation behind him.

  Everything was perfect. Except that Buta-Sama was standing next to him, grinning from ear to ear.

  Ninja in Edo Castle? It was a disgrace!

  Suddenly, a burly hatamoto boomed:

  All eyes turned to the front. A teeny tiny man stepped on to the stage. He was so small his bottom was brushing the ground.

  ‘Ninja and samurai!’ he squeaked. ‘I am the great and powerful shōgun, ruler of all Japan. You may now kowtow before me.’

  Everyone kowtowed. A couple of ninja stifled a giggle.

  ‘I have called you here to catch a very naughty person,’ cheeped the shōgun. ‘This person stole the Great Bear, Oguma-za. And I want it back at once!’

  Kingyo-Sama gasped. He had heard of Oguma-za. It was the shōgun’s most pric
eless possession.

  ‘But great and powerful shōgun,’ stuttered Kingyo-Sama, ‘who would steal such a treasure?’

  The shōgun opened his mouth to answer. But before he could speak …

  A silver arrow smashed through the window and thwonked into the wall behind the shōgun’s head.

  squealed the shōgun, leaping into a hatamoto’s arms.

  There was a note tied to the arrow. Another hatamoto stepped forward and unrolled it. The note read:

  If you seek Oguma-za, come and find me in the Mystic Cave of Moshi-Moshi.

  – Akira the Thief

  Everyone gasped. Akira. The most dangerous thief in all of Japan. Legend has it he would kill a man just for sneezing.

  Kingyo-Sama gulped. Buta-Sama scratched his bum.

  ‘Whoever brings the Great Bear back to me,’ chirruped the shōgun, ‘will be made ruler of the Hidden Valley!’

  Kingyo-Sama and Buta-Sama turned to look at one another. They both knew what this meant. If one of them was made ruler, the other one would be finished …

  ‘Let the race begin!’ squawked the shōgun.

  For a moment no-one moved. And then, in a clatter of swords and a clutter of nunchucks, the ninja and samurai raced from the room.

  ‘Blue-bottomed banana brains!’

  ‘Purple-panted party poopers!’

  ‘Soggy-stockinged sushi scoffers!’

  ‘Knobbly-nippled nincompoops!’

  The ninja and samurai raced across the hilltops, insulting each other as they ran.

  ‘You silly ninja will never reach the Mystic Cave!’ yelled Kingyo-Sama.

  ‘The danger of death is too great!’

  ‘HA!’ boomed Buta-Sama. ‘We ninja laugh in the face of death. Danger is our middle name!’

  ‘Mine isn’t,’ squeaked a nervous ninja. ‘My middle name is Sid.’

  There was good reason to be scared. To reach the cave, three frightful obstacles had to be overcome.

  The Cliffs of Zetsubou (despair) – cliffs so steep they scared themselves.

  Ku fu (terror) Canyon – a canyon so deep it had lost its bottom.

  Fuan (fear) Forest – a forest so creepy the trees had knock knees.

  Only idiots would attempt such a crazy quest. The shōgun had chosen well.

  The samurai and ninja reached the Cliffs of Zetsubou at dawn. They were so tall the tops were covered in clouds.

  But Kingyo-Sama didn’t blink.

  ‘Flippers of Steel!’ he barked.

  The samurai lined up in rows. They locked their elbows and flexed their fingers. Their arms became steel rods, their fingers iron claws.

  ‘Upsy daisies!’

  The samurai started to climb.

  ‘Catch ya later, ninja whingers!’ Kingyo-Sama shouted.

  The ninja gaped. They practised the ancient art of Mink-u-i Buta – the Way of the Ugly Pig. It was very good for gobbling cakes. But not so good for climbing.

  But Little Pig, the smallest ninja, had an idea. She whispered in Buta-Sama’s ear. Buta-Sama smiled. It was a very good idea.

  ‘Flying Pigs of Power!’ he commanded.

  The ninja reached inside their shinobi shōzokus. They pulled out red hot chillies. Every ninja carried one. It was standard emergency equipment.

  ‘Prepare for jet propulsion!’ ordered Buta-Sama.

  The ninja ate their chillies. They started to sweat. These were no ordinary chillies. They were super-extra-spicy-hot-exploding-fiery-death chillies.

  ‘Launch positions!’ commanded Buta-Sama.

  The ninja spread their legs. They clenched their tummies. A grumbling rumble began to grow …

  ‘FIRE!’ boomed the ninja leader.

  … their bottoms erupted.

  The valley was flooded with fire.

  Up and up the ninja flew, jetting past the sweaty samurai.

  But the ninja were ahead. They scampered away, sprinting samurai hot on their heels.

  By nightfall they reached Ku fu Canyon. It was terrible to behold. A hundred yards across with edges as sharp as daggers.

  But Kingyo-Sama wasn’t flustered. He commanded:

  The samurai shook out their arms. They stretched and lengthened like octopus tentacles.

  ordered Kingyo-Sama.

  The samurai lined up in twos. Each grabbed the other by the ankles.

  screamed Kingyo-Sama.

  And fling they did. They flung and flung until only a single flinger was left.

  jeered the final flinger, sneering at the snotty ninja.

  Buta-Sama snorted. ‘Pathetic,’ he grunted.

  He clapped his hands. A gigantic ninja pushed his way forwards, tummy jiggling like a jumbly jelly.

  ‘Behold the Sumo-San.’ Buta-Sama grinned.

  Sumo-San clicked his heels. He bowed. He waddled to the edge and lay down. His stomach was so big it blocked out the moon.

  ‘Let the leaping commence!’

  Little Pig was the first to jump. She sprinted up to Sumo-San and hopped onto his belly.

  ‘WAHOO!’

  Up through the sky she soared, somersaulting as she went.

  ‘HEEYAH!’

  She landed, perfectly poised, on the other side.

  One by one, the ninja bounced and boinged. They leapt and leapt until only Sumo-San was left.

  ‘Put that in your potty and munch it.’ Sumo-San smiled.

  Finally they reached Fuan Forest.

  Terrible tales were told of Fuan Forest. Tales of flesh-munching were-goats and fifteen-fingered vampire voles. Tales of ghosts and ghouls and gobbledygooks.

  But Kingyo-Sama didn’t pause.

  The shaking samurai drew their swords.

  ‘Samurai, hold hands!’

  The samurai held hands. A few of them stuck their thumbs in their mouths.

  ‘Samurai, advance!’

  The terrified samurai advanced into the woods.

  Buta-Sama blinked. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was scared stiff.

  There was only one thing for it.

  ‘Ninja! Remove your socks!’ he snapped.

  The ninja whipped off their socks.

  ‘Party Conga Formation!’

  The ninja formed a conga line, hands on the shoulders of the ninja in front.

  ‘Blindfolds on!’

  Each ninja tied a stinky sock around the eyes of the ninja in front. It was a plan of genius. Now they wouldn’t see anything scary at all!

  ‘FORWARD!’

  The ninja conga-ed blindly into the woods.

  The samurai were soon lost. They staggered forwards, swords drawn, blinking into the blackness.

  When, suddenly, they stopped.

  Something was slithering towards them. A slippery, slimy snake, sliding between the trees.

  ‘Camouflage!’ whispered Kingyo-Sama.

  The samurai dived into the shrubbery. They smeared mud on their faces, shoved leaves in their hair and stuffed branches down their kamishimo. They waited … and waited … and waited …

  Screaming and shrieking, they sprung their surprise.

  ‘We’re under attack!’ cried the ninja.

  They leapt out of the Conga Formation, ripped off their blindfolds and whipped out their swords.

  Fearsome creatures were all around them. Beasts with lumpy mud faces, crinkly-leaf hair and bodies of prickles and sticks.

  A bloodcurdling battle began.

  Swords slashed, shurikens shrieked, nunchucks struck.

  Socks were shoved up noses. Sticks were poked in ears. And in the frenzy of fighting, soon no-one knew who was who or what was what or which was which.

  Until a figure appeared in the shadows. A mysterious figure in black.

  ‘Akira!’ whispered Kingyo-Sama.

  The thief turned tail and ran. Kingyo-Sama removed his foot from Buta-Sama’s armpit and they both barrelled after him.

  Further into the forest they flew. Until finally, in the darkest part of the deepest gully, they found it.

 
; The Mystic Cave of Moshi-Moshi.

  Bats squeaked high above. Eyes spied from the shadows.

  Deeper and deeper into the cave they delved. Until …

  GASP!

  There it sat. Bathed in moonlight on a pillar of stone. The most famous treasure in all of Japan.

  Oguma-za.

  The shōgun’s favourite stuffed toy.

  ‘It’s a teddy.’ Buta-Sama giggled.

  ‘It’s my teddy,’ snarled Kingyo-Sama.

  They both raced forward to claim it.

  ‘Not so fast!’

  A black mask covered his face. In his hand he held a fearsome sword.

  he growled.

  ‘In the name of the shōgun, we shall,’ cried Kingyo-Sama and Buta-Sama.

  Buta-Sama struck first. He used the Trotters of Thundering Terror, the most deadly move he knew.

  But Akira was too fast. He dodged his deadly trotters and sent Buta-Sama spinning to the ground.

  Kingyo-Sama struck second. He used the Flying Fins of Fury, the most deadly move he knew.

  But Akira was too quick. He stepped to one side and turned Kingyo-Sama topsy-turvy.