by Nicky Blue
* * *
8
1603
Barry found himself upon a misty hilltop in front of the most intoxicating vista he had ever witnessed. Antique woodlands conspired on curvaceous hilltops and cornflowers lined meadows in the valley below. A deep indigo sky merged perfectly with the surrounding ocean as black crane birds hovered on the gentle sea breeze. Had he really gone back in time? Was this ancient Japan? There was a sharp frost in the air, infused by the sweet smell of burning pine from a nearby fire. It was a good job his new surroundings were aromatic as his underwear were really starting to show the strain. He was slowing turning into a walking compost heap.
There was the sound of a commotion coming from a nearby forest and Barry decided he should investigate. He knelt down by a small pond and smeared mud over his face and arms to blend in with his environment – maximum stealth mode. Staying away from the path, he crept silently through the trees toward a clearing up ahead.
As the noise got louder, he crouched behind a bush and saw that two samurai soldiers were taunting and pushing an old man on the dusty forest path.
Watching this unfold, Barry became acutely aware of how differently he felt now. Where fear would be normally be crippling him, he felt determination. Instead of paralysing anxiety and doubt, he felt purpose. Without thinking, Barry jumped into the clearing and shrieked,
‘You bastards! Come and do that to me if you think you can handle it!’
The samurai stopped what they were doing, looked at Barry, looked at each other, and burst out laughing.
‘How fucking dare you,’ growled Barry. ‘I’ve just travelled four-hundred-and-thirty-six years back in time, and I’m going to kick your arse!’ Running straight at the first samurai, he disarmed him by flinging a handful of coarse sand and cayenne pepper directly into his eyes – a ninja trick called “Metsubishi-Ko”. The Samurai fell to his knees, clutching desperately at his face as Barry stole his sword and sliced him through the back. He fell to the floor in two pieces. The remaining soldier drew his sword and held it in front of him, wobbling like a jelly and custard pudding.
‘You seem to have stopped laughing – am I not funny anymore?’ Barry jumped up, kicked the sword out of the soldier’s hands, and launched into hand-to-hand combat. He had never felt more alive. Everything his father had taught him seemed to be falling into place. Grabbing the arm of the soldier, Barry threw him over his shoulder and face-first into the side of a tree. He slid down the tree and hit the forest floor like a sack of parsnips.
Barry walked over and helped the elderly man to his feet.
‘Are you okay?’
‘I am, thank you. You have skills, young man. Tell me, where do you come from?’
‘Portslade.’ Barry began picking up the man’s scattered belongings.
‘Where is this kingdom you speak of?’
‘It’s between Aldrington and Hove on the south coast of England.’
‘Hmm, you are far, far from home.’
‘I have been sent here to find my father and fulfil a prophecy.’
‘Hmm, I think it would be wise to take you to meet the village elders; their council will direct you.’ The old man stroked his leathery chin, then pushed down on his walking stick to set himself in motion.
As they disappeared into the forest, Barry reflected on the fight. He couldn’t quite believe that it was him in action back there. He knew all those techniques, but only as pictures in his head, he thought. When the fight was on, the moves had seemed to pour from his soul.
‘So what’s your name?’ asked Barry, moving closer to the old man who was carefully navigating the rough terrain.
‘I am Haruki.’
‘Have you lived here long?’
‘It has been so very long that I can’t remember if I moved here yesterday.’ Barry twisted his head sideways as if to make sense of it from another perspective.
‘OK, what time will we arrive?’
‘When you arrive, you will know. How can it be any other way?’ After many more hours of walking, they arrived at a glade that was home to a spectacular wooden temple. It was identical to the one in the picture his father had given him. This is it, thought Barry. This is exactly where I need to be.
They were greeted at the temple door by a man dressed head to foot in black. Oh my god, a real life ninja! Barry could hardly contain himself as he was ushered in and led to a dining hall with five older men sat around a table drinking tea.
‘Please take a seat over here and drink some tea. I will speak to the council and return soon.’ Haruki wandered over to the other men and was soon engaged in what looked like an animated discussion.
An hour passed. Barry was tired and hungry. There’s only so long you can sit comfortably on a rice mat, even if you do have the benefits of 15 tog quilted underwear.
Eventually Haruki shuffled back to Barry.
‘I have been talking with the wise elders and telling them about your quest. They would like to know why you have shit on your face?’
‘What? It took you an hour to come up with that? It’s not shit, it’s mud. I was using my ninja training to keep undercover so I could rescue you.’ With that, Haruki sauntered back to the council. Barry felt his stomach moan. Sweat beads grew and ran down the side of his face. A faint flicker on the edge of his lip began to reassert itself. What kind of fucking wise council is this? Laurel and Hardy could do a better job! Another long hour passed before Haruki returned.
‘It is clear you have talents, young man, but talk of the prophecy is premature. The council say you need to prove yourself a true ninja before they can help you with your quest. For this you need to complete the five sacred tasks.’
‘Okay. What are they?’ Barry stood up, trying look prepared.
Haruki shuffled close to Barry, his eyes wide and as his eyebrows seemingly ready to leave his forehead.
‘Young man, to prove yourself, you must:
Run faster than a cheetah
Mimic the song of the Japanese bush warbler
Wrestle a goat
Strangle a baboon
Put a donkey in a headlock.’
‘They’re a bit random, aren’t they?’ asked Barry.
‘From time immemorial, it has been this way.’
‘Look, I don’t want to cause a fuss. I just want to rescue my father. His name is Yamochi Harris. I’ve been told he’s being held hostage by a warlord. Do you know him?’
The look on the old man’s face became even more animated, and he jumped back into conversation with the elders.
This time, after only a few moments, the elders shuffled across the room toward Barry in unison.
A petite, withered elder stepped out of the group and snatched his hand.
‘Young man, this is indeed an auspicious meeting. Yamochi, your father, is the leader of our ninja army. He was the first of us to stand up and defend the poor. Most of our fighters are simple farming folk who have had to learn their skills quickly. We fight bravely but we are outnumbered, and few of us are now left. The evil warlord Nobmearda you speak of ambushed this temple and kidnapped your father. We don’t know if Yamochi is still alive. If he is, he will be under the spell of a dark wizard who, in league with Nobmeada, is summoning eighty-thousand samurai warriors to Rim province. So is it rumoured. This is a critical time for the ninja community; if we lose your father, we lose everything.’
‘I’ve come a long way and waited a long time. I’m not going to let anything happen to my father now. Take me to where he is being held captive.’
‘Eat and rest. At first light you go.’
However much he needed both those things, Barry had to sort his underwear out. He borrowed a knife from the kitchen and cut himself a small section of rice matting which he used as a temporary gusset repair kit. Barry hoped this might buy him a bit of extra bum support time, though he knew the clock was ticking.
Later that evening, the elders regaled him with stories about his father’s incredible a
dventures and unsurpassed abilities. They were all keen to know if Barry had inherited his father’s gifts. When asked, Barry shrugged and said.
‘We’ll soon find out, won’t we?’
Eventually, lying down to rest, Barry thought about everyone back in Portslade and what they would make of all this. I could do with Mum and Merril out here. He smiled. They’d give the samurai a run for their money.
Barry was brusquely awoken at five the next morning by the mysterious ninja from the day before. Saying nothing, the ninja gestured at the door and disappeared through it.
Splashing some icy water into his face, Barry said goodbye to the temple and chased after his guide. Travelling light and fast, they were soon traversing a steep forested hill, as first light crept in through the tree canopy. The anticipation was growing for Barry with every step he took toward finding his father. He also thought it was pretty cool to spend some time with a real life ninja.
‘How long have you been a ninja then?’
No response.
‘I like your nunchucks. Where did you buy them? I’ve not seen any shops anywhere.’
No response.
‘So what kind of music are you into?’ Barry was puffing as they approached the brow of the hill.
No response.
‘What do you get up to on the weekends?’
Nothing
Barry looked up to admire the crimson glare of the rising sun through the misty morning cobwebs.
‘I’m the only ninja in England that I know of.’
The ninja turned to Barry and pointed into the valley below.
‘You are not a ninja and that is where your father is.’ He pointed toward a vast temple complex surrounded by a moat and hundreds of guards. Above the temple was a cliff line and a deep blue ocean stretching beyond it toward the horizon. It was savagely beautiful. White wisteria blossoms clambered up the steep temple walls as the morning mist evaporated into the forest above. Red maple trees lined the valley pathways and Japanese nightingales harmonised with distant wind chimes. The chatty ninja turned his back and disappeared down the hill.
‘Lovely spending time with you! We must do this again sometime!’ shouted Barry after him.
Alone, he sat down on the hilltop and took in the cold reality of his mission impossible. How the hell am I gonna get into that place? There must be five hundred samurai surrounding it. His excitement evaporated and anxiety crept back in. Queasiness was accompanied by an all-too-familiar deep intestinal rumbling. What if I don’t succeed? What will happen to Dad? How will Mum cope if I never return?
He made his way down the hill into the valley and hid in the tree line, hoping to find some inspiration to hatch a rudimentary plan. There were around twenty encampments surrounding the temple moat, each with its own log fire and division of soldiers. It appeared that most of the samurai were still asleep, with only one soldier keeping watch. If Barry could sneak through the long grass between two of these camps, he might just make it to the moat.
Putting on his ninja head mask, he sank into the misty meadow grass and wriggled towards the encampments. This had to be the ultimate stealth operation. Nothing that Barry had previously attempted had stakes as high as this. He had to be quieter than an amoeba holding its breath and sleeker than a panther in a Versace suit. Unfortunately, with all the excitement his innards were bubbling like an insane witch’s broth. Barry tightened his belt as far as it would go hoping to pacify the demonic intestinal lord that did torture him so.
He successfully inched his way past the first camp. Through the sweat in his eyes he could see two more camps up ahead, each with their own guard slumped by an open fire. There must have been only five metres between them. If Barry could get through this gap he would have a clear run to the moat. His heart hammered against his rib cage but his breath was faint a whisper as he crept forward.
Drawing parallel with the guards, he paused. He could see the moat ahead. If I get up and run for it I can be in the moat before they realise what’s going on, thought Barry, not knowing what his best move was. One of the guards stood up and walked in his direction so he lay flat on the grass hoping he wouldn’t be seen. The guard stopped some two metres away and relieved himself. Panic had aggravated Barry’s bowels to such a degree that they were now rumbling like a magnitude six earthquake. Can he hear me? He could spear me from where he is and I wouldn’t stand a chance. I’ve got to run!
Barry jumped to his feet with such fury that his belt snapped, and as it did he let rip the most earth-shattering passing of wind he had ever known. It was a noise so harrowing and awesome that not only did it almost give the unsuspecting guard a heart attack but it also woke the rest of the sleeping samurai. It could quite possibly have woken the dead.
Shouts from the guards rang out.
‘Ninja! Ninja attack! Bring your weapons!’
Unsure if he had soiled himself, Barry had no choice but to double back to the tree line. He could hear the samurai gaining on him. Had they known what they were getting into, they may well have kept their distance.
Barry made it into the forest and scrambled up the first tree he could find. He only just made it onto the horizontal limb of a dense pine branch. Looking down, he could see the samurai entering the forest and gathering around the base of his tree. Lying as still as the temple walls, he could hear orders being given out as warriors dispersed in all directions in search of him. They haven’t seen me, I’ll hide out here until nightfall, then make my next move.
No sooner had Barry finished his thought than a loud cracking noise echoed through the forest. The branch he was on decided it would snap beneath his weight and toss him ruthlessly to the wolves below.
* * *
9
HORNY WIZARD APOCALYPSE
An excruciating pain tore though Barry’s body. He had awoken to find himself strapped to a tree in one of the samurai camps. He linked his foot round the branch of a nearby shrub to try and get free but couldn’t move and inch. I think I’ve broken my fucking arm.
A gang of soldiers sat around a fire some ten metres away. They stared at him and smiled while they sharpened their swords. New battalions of samurai were emerging from the surrounding forest. Out of the throng of warriors appeared Robbie in a bright gold cape with his hair back-combed vertically into a large fan shape, looking like a cosmic peacock.
‘Hey, baby. What’s cooking? Long time no see.’
‘It’s only been about four hundred years. I could wait longer if I’m honest,’ replied Barry.
‘You’re a gas baby, and by the smell of it that’s exactly what you’re producing! I should have wiped you out a long time ago. Don’t worry though. As soon as master Nobmearda arrives, I’ll be making up for lost time. This was one spectacle the master wouldn’t want to miss – I couldn’t have planned it better myself. If you’re lucky, they might bring your dad to come and watch the show too!’ Robbie turned, fanning his cape in the wind and disappearing into the samurai, singing to himself, ‘The end is near… so I face the final curtain… ha ha ha!’
So this is how it ends! I’ve come all this way just to be a sitting duck for a twisted wizard and an insane warlord.
At least Barry finally knew why his father had gone missing. Despite the burden of guilt he had carried all these years, it wasn’t his fault after all. Scant consolation for what was about to happen, though. He could see a procession coming out of the temple and crossing the moat bridge towards his encampment. A tall man in white robes was surrounded by samurai in black gowns and steel-plated armour. These soldiers seemed much taller than the rest; they were obviously some kind of elite guard. Out in front was a man being pushed forward with his hands tied in front of him.
Is that… my god… It’s Dad! Yamochi had his head down and was staring at the floor. Barry’s heart raced. He clawed at his ropes so fiercely his nails started to bleed.
The samurai surrounding Barry left to go and pay their respects to their arriving warlord; three bows follow
ed by a prostration that symbolised the soldier’s devotion to their master. It’s hardly any wonder these warlords become such arseholes. Barry closed his eyes. He tried to pretend this wasn’t really happening. As he sat in self-imposed blindness, a faint voice began whispering behind him.
‘Alright, geezer?’
‘Terry! Thank god! Where are you?’
‘Shh, put a sock in it, I’ve got a Jackie Chan innit! I’m going to shuffle over behind you, undo that rope and when I do, jump in this shrub with me and we’ll do a runner.’
Barry could feel a rustling behind him as his tethers fell away. He hopped into the shrub to see a small man wearing only underpants and a pair of wellington boots. Barry couldn’t take his eyes off him.
‘I never thought you would just be a bloke in a bush. I thought you were some kind of ethereal being.’
‘I am, kind of, it’s difficult to explain. I’m taking human form so you don’t get too freaked out when you look at me.’
‘It’s working so far, but why couldn’t you just show up in a robe like Obi-Wan Kenobi?’
‘I wanted to but my boss wouldn’t let me, it’s all USP’s these days innit? Anyway, we better scarper. We only got ten minutes. The hoops I had jump to get a time extension beggars belief.’ They shuffled towards a group of trees next to the castle moat.
‘Right, we should be safe here for a while.’ Terry reached into the back of the bush and pulled out a canvas bag.
‘I put this bag together with everything you’ll need to complete your mission: a flute, toothpicks, waxed rope, poisonous berries, some aftershave and a wireless in-ear-canal earpiece.’
‘Toothpicks? Don’t you think some dynamite might have been a bit more useful?’
‘Too noisy. Remember, Barry, “the best ninja has no smell, leaves no name and makes everyone wonder if he ever existed.” I suggest you meditate before going into battle, all good ninjas do that. By the way, you better use the earpiece to check-in with head office before you get started. You might wanna have a flutter with the aftershave too, smells like something’s well Pete Tong with your khyber.’ Having imparted that transcendental wisdom, a bright green flash filled the bush, and Barry was alone again.