Journey Through Fire (19 page)

S
top!” I called out.

The hall fell silent. Akane froze and turned around to look at me, disbelieving. “How dare you speak to me like that,” she said threateningly. She started to run toward me, but then remembered herself, casting nervous glances around at the onlookers. She tried to smile, but the smile slid off of her face. “You are a mere child,” she said more gently. “You may not speak to me like that.” The Shogun had climbed down off his platform and stood by my side. He was looking closely at Akane. Her face flushed red as she realized that the whole court was watching her.

“This woman is a ninja,” I said, turning to the Shogun. “Look behind her ear, you'll see for yourself.” The Shogun hesitated. Akane started to back out of the room, but the Shogun gave a sharp nod to the samurai at the door and they came to stand on either side of her, the light glancing off their red-lacquered armor. She did not dare move.

“Inspect her,” the Shogun said.

“No!” Akane cried out. The soldiers gripped each of her arms and held her steady as the Shogun's mother approached. Her mouth turned down at the corners as she yanked Akane's coils of ebony hair to one side.

“There,” the Shogun's mother said. “I always sensed this one was not to be trusted.” No one moved. We could all see the black, fluid strokes of the tattoo—the permanent mark of a silent assassin.

“How could you?” asked a solitary voice. It was the Administrator. He stepped up to his wife, gazing into her eyes. Her eyes glittered back ferociously. Then she pulled her head back and spat in her husband's face. Women cried out and the Shogun's mother hissed through her teeth in disgust.

The reaction of the crowd was distraction enough. Akane tore her arms free of the guards' grip and wheeled around. She leaped into the air and fiercely kicked her heels into their chests. As they staggered back, she landed and immediately ran toward them, delivering another flying kick at the nearest. He fell back onto his companion and they skidded across the polished floor.

The Shogun called out for more guards.

“Seize her!” he cried as they entered the room, their swords already unsheathed and glittering in the
light. Akane backed away, laughing breathlessly.

“You can lock that boy up, but I am the
real
assassin!” She pulled her fan out from her sleeve and gave it an angry flick that snapped it open. Then she gave the fan a second flick and with a snap, sharp, pointed metal teeth appeared from the prongs of the fan.

The soldiers hesitated, glancing nervously at the Shogun. Akane arched the fan. The metal of those deadly points shone. Then she whipped around and threw the fan at a screened window. It tore through the screen and circled back to her waiting grasp. She pointed the fan across the room, at a boy who had been watching silently all this time.

At my brother.

“No!” I cried out. I sprang toward her, but Akane pulled her arm back and hurled the fan so that it sliced through the air. Moriyasu stood against the wall, his face blank with shock, his body unmoving. The fan hissed as it tore across the room.

A body arched through the air. Amber silk shone in the sun as a woman threw herself in front of Moriyasu.

“Mother!” Hana cried out.

The fan thudded home, driving its spikes into our mother's chest. Red blood stained the front of the amber kimono as she fell to her knees. Moriyasu whimpered at her side. Gone was the brave boy who
would be
Jito
. In his place was a child who had seen his parent wounded. Mother's eyes rolled back in her head as Moriyasu tried to cradle her. I felt my heart freeze over.

Akane's laughter, shrill and evil, brought me back to my senses. Guards tried to overpower her, but she was too skilled. The samurai didn't stand a chance; with deadly accuracy she attacked. Her hands whirled in a series of double punches and she leaped into the air again and again to send out fierce kicks, spinning to meet new attackers before they could assemble their onslaught.

Then she threw her hands onto the floor and cartwheeled through the soldiers, moving so quickly that each attempt to catch her left the soldiers' hands closing on empty air.

Akane scowled back at her missed target and ran toward the doors of the hall, her blue silk kimono billowing. Her hair had come loose, and as it streamed behind her, the ninja tattoo shone out vividly. I grabbed a porcelain vase and hurled it at her. It crashed into a pillar near her head.

“You!” she hissed. She grabbed a sword from a soldier in pursuit and threw him into another soldier. Then the two of us stood face-to-face before the main doors of the meeting room. “Prepare to die!”

I yanked a sword from a startled nobleman as
Akane lunged forward and brought it up to meet her attack, deflecting the blade from my body. Akane lifted her sword above her head and sliced down toward my heart. I moved out of range just in time, feeling a
whoosh
of air across my chest.

Akane sliced hard from the left. There was a clash of steel as I stepped into her and brought my sword down the length of her blade until it jammed into hers at the hilt. We stood in a deadlock, swords pushing against each other, my eyes never leaving my enemy's.

“Murderer!” I hissed.

Her lips curled in a sneer. “Peasant!” she threw back. She couldn't have known that this was the best thing for her to say. My cousin Ken-ichi had once tried to wound me with that very word—it hadn't worked then, either. I had spent my days among the peasants of this province and they had sheltered me. I was proud to be called a peasant; proud enough to keep fighting. New energy pulsed through my veins and the fight began again.

As Akane and I fought, people ran from the room. I was vaguely aware of Daisuke by my mother's side, but I had to keep my every thought for the fight in hand. Akane began to tire. I could see that her lunges were slower and her blocks less accurate. Her life of luxury had taken its toll.
I'm winning!
I thought as a
finger of sweat trickled down my back beneath my kimono.
If I can just keep going.

I pushed Akane back against a screened window. As she backed away, swinging her sword wildly, her foot caught on the hem of her kimono and she staggered against the frame. I bounded forward and brought the blade of my sword against her throat. I leaned my weight into it and pressed down against her skin. Akane was panting hard from the exertions. But my enemy's gaze never faltered, even as blood poured down her neck from the wound to her cheek.

“Your day is done,” I told her.

With a quick movement, she snatched a hand toward the sleeve of her robe and threw a twist of paper to the floor. A loud popping sound, like instant thunder, hurt my ears and suddenly black smoke filled my eyes and mouth, making me cough and choke.

Akane took a step up onto my knee and then onto my shoulder. With a mocking laugh, she jumped from one man's shoulder to another soldier's head. Before people had a chance to realize what was happening, she was leaping across the room, using those gathered for the meeting as her stepping-stones. Coughing and retching, I watched as she launched herself into the air and dived through an open window, her body arching. But her kimono caught on
the frame. She fiercely tried to tug herself free, as I climbed to my feet. She glanced back up at me, desperation filling her face.

My enemy was trapped and she would feel the sting of my blade. I ran across the room, intent on vengeance, determined to see the pain of death etched across Akane's face.

“Kimi!” My sister was cradling our mother's head to her chest as she called out to me, her voice tortured by sobs.

“She's still alive,” Moriyasu said. From behind him, Daisuke watched to see what I would do next.

The sword clattered to the polished floor. I ran across the bloody boards to Mother's side. Her pale hand languished on the cold tiles and I lifted it to hold between my own bloodied fingers. My mother's eyes fluttered and flickered open. She smiled, sending another thin stream of blood falling from the corner of her mouth, down her cheek, and to the tiled floor.

“I am so proud of you all,” she said weakly, her breath wheezing in her chest. “My brave children. Stay strong.” Then her face contorted in pain and she coughed. More blood foamed out of her mouth and spread across her cheeks, staining her beautiful face.

“No!” I cried. Hana's body was wracked with sobs.
Moriyasu watched, his face solemn and unmoving, the shock freezing his limbs.

Mother's eyes closed for the final time, like butterflies closing their wings. All three of us watched as the rise and fall of her chest slowed and then ceased. I put Mother's hand back down on her chest, beside her heart. Then I stood up. My sister sobbed quietly at my feet; Moriyasu watched me with wide eyes. Only Daisuke made a move toward me, but I turned away and walked over to the window through which Akane had made her escape.

I gazed out over the rolling hills beyond the compound's walls. My country. As I looked, a bird came to land beside the water of the pond garden. It folded its wings and sang. But its song did not touch my heart. Tears rolled down my cheeks, unchecked.
How much more?
I silently asked the sky.
Shall you tear my heart in two?

I turned back to look at my sister and brother.

Daisuke arranged our mother's body and cleaned the blood from her skin. Moriyasu came to stand on one side of me, and Hana walked to my other side.

“It's up to us now,” I said, retrieving the sword from the floor. Its blade glittered in the light. “Only us.”

W
ith my mother's last breath, something inside of me died. But more bloodshed lay ahead of us. Uncle Hidehira would not give up; he would fight on. I had made the right decision that day, to turn my back on revenge—to allow Akane to escape. Daisuke had urged me to find the true path, to listen to my heart over anything else. I needed friends like never before. I needed their strength if I was to carry on and find justice. Because without justice this suffering would count for nothing.

Without it, this suffering would become too much for my heart to bear….

Cover art © 2009 by Brandon Dorman

Cover design by Ray Shappell