Samurai Son (38 page)

Chapter Seventy-Five

Akira let Shigeko lead him back to the ninja compound.
 
His mind roiled.
 
If he took the dragon’s offer, wouldn’t he exchange one form of slavery for another?
 
He was samurai, not ninja, not Tengu.
 
He did not want to spend his entire life living with the Shinobi or following their rules.
 
He would be ronin, and his father would never know what became of him.

He looked at Shigeko and wondered how old she really was.
 
Dragons were immortal, but she was likely only half dragon, just as he was half Tengu.
 
Yet the Tengu had told him he could be immortal if he chose to be Tengu.
 
He wondered if Shigeko had made a similar choice with the dragon.
 
He thought about his mother, Ikumi, and what she had sacrificed for him to be samurai.
 
He thought about his father, Takeshi, and what he would think of a son who had become Shinobi.
 
Could Akira bring such disgrace to his family’s household?

Your father would not be able to bear the shame,
Windspirit said.
 
Your father would commit seppuku.
 
And so would end the house of Takeshi.
 
The sword spoke very softly so Shigeko would not overhear their conversation.

I know,
Akira replied.
 
He knew what joining the Shinobi would do to Takeshi.
 
But what could he do?

You could leave tonight,
Windspirit whispered in his mind.

Akira tried to look ahead instead of at the no-dachi’s pommel.
 
Shigeko glanced sideways and Akira forced himself to wipe his mind blank.
 
The sword was silent for several minutes while Akira followed Shigeko down the mountain path.
 
When he finally dared to think again, Akira heard Windspirit again in his mind.

The Shinobi are tricky,
the sword said.
 
And they are masters at magic.
 
But you are part Tengu.
 
They do not know everything you can do.

But I do not want to use my Tengu powers,
Akira objected.
 
If I do, the Tengu will take me.

The sword made a sound like a snort.
 
Don’t you think I know that?
 
I’m not talking about magic.
 
I’m talking about your skill as a warrior.

Akira said nothing.
 
He didn’t hold the confidence in his strength and prowess as a fighter that Windspirit did.
 
Perhaps the sword actually had confidence in itself, in the spirit of Rokuro inside.
 
Akira had already seen how the sword could control his arms and his fighting style.
 
As good a fighter as he was, he doubted he would’ve survived the ninja fight with any other sword.

You would have defeated the ninja without me,
Windspirit said.
 
You are a good fighter; you just lack confidence.

Akira snorted.
 
He had never known his old master to exaggerate his prowess as a fighter or try to build up his confidence.
 
He didn’t know what the sword’s game was or why he should even listen to Rokuro any longer.
 
After all, his old sensei was dead.

Akira let Shigeko lead him to the ninja compound and said nothing when she sent him with one of the genin.
 
He felt the South Wind tug against him as he walked into the main building where he would sleep.
 
He followed the genin to his room, bowed once, and entered his room.

Once certain he was alone, he searched the walls and floor for any trapdoors or magical devices.
 
He knew an accomplished ninja could come and go in a puff of smoke.
 
But he had felt the South Wind, and she had reassured him that she was there for him if need be.
 
But how could he call the winds when he had little access to the outside?

The winds, he knew, were capricious.
 
The South Wind remembered him today but might forget him tomorrow.
 
Then there was the issue of the dragon.
 
The dragon here was the lord of Shinobi-jima, and dragons controlled the winds, just as the Tengu did.
 
Akira was certain that the dragon had magic that far preempted anything Akira could muster.

“Well, tomorrow I will start on figuring a way out of here,” Akira said to Windspirit softly.
 
“I’m tired.”

When I was your age, I had twice your energy,
Windspirit chided, but the sword’s tone was light.
 
Akira suspected his old sensei knew the value of rest.
 
This exhausted, Akira would probably make a mistake, and here on Ninja Island, a mistake would most likely cost him his life.

His tiredness outweighed his hunger, and since there was no food, he decided to simply sleep.
 
He blew out the oil lamps, lay down on the pallet, and fell into a dreamless sleep.

#

Kasumi sat impatiently at the table in her room.
 
She had met Shigeko and spoken briefly with her about Akira, but little had come of it.
 
Shigeko promised her that she would see Akira very soon.
 
So far, she had been a houseguest of the Shinobi but had not been allowed outside her room or the little courtyard her room opened to.
 
The Shinobi were attentive to her needs, providing her with as much food, tea, and diversions as she would like, but she felt as if she were a trapped tiger in a cage—a pleasant cage, to be sure, but still a cage.

She’d met Shigeko the first day here on Shinobi-jima.
 
The shonin had been polite and listened to her petition but had said little.
 
Kasumi knew that if she had not been from the Neko clan, the Shinobi would have killed her immediately.
 
She wondered why they would let Takeshi Akira live, especially since he came from one of the oldest samurai clans.
 
Then again, the ninja could be toying with her, just as a cat toys with a mouse.
 
Akira could be dead, and they might be stalling for time to decide what to do with her.

The shadows grew very long, and she would soon need to light the oil lamps.
 
Even if she hadn’t access to the outside, she would know the time.
 
The tiger within her told her that night was falling and it was time to hunt.
 
Being kami, she had the instincts of both human and tiger.
 
She knew that if she waited any longer, it would be too long.
 
Her people would be murdered by Nanashi’s samurai, and there would be no one left of the Neko clan.

She had to escape and find out what happened to Akira now.
 
She thought about Tenko, the little kitsune, and wondered what would become of him if she left.
 
She stared at the serving tray filled with sashimi, rice, and rice cakes.
 
She wasn’t hungry, but if she were going to make her escape, she would have to eat.
 
She picked up the cup of lukewarm tea and drained it.
 
Then she ate all the sashimi and rice.
 
She wrapped up the rice cakes and slid them in her bundle.
 
Slipping off her clothes, she folded them and put both them and her swords in the pack.
 
She tied them up as tightly as she could with string from her bag then put them into the pack.
 
She blew out the oil lamps, loosely shouldered the bundle, and changed into her tiger form.

The pack straps were taut against her skin, and she wondered if they would chafe her.
 
Still, if she intended to walk in the world of men, she would have to have her clothes and swords.
 
Normally the Neko carried specially designed packs so they could carry their clothes in feline form, but in her wanderings, she had lost it.
 
That was the problem with being a shapeshifter in the human world.
 
Being human meant some type of modesty.

Kasumi strode over to the door and hooked her tiger’s paw around the door panel to slide it back.
 
It was dark now, but the paper lanterns hung from the overhangs, brightly colored and festive against the blackness.
 
Kasumi knew that the ninja would patrol their compound, but she also knew that they would be looking for a human, not an animal.

Her smaller cat size would be far more inconspicuous, but she would be unable to carry her pack.
 
She snuffed the breeze and, finding no nearby humans, silently slid from the room and moved like a tawny shadow in a world of shadows.

Kasumi stalked around the courtyard.
 
Her superior cat senses told her that the ninja had not been entirely truthful with her.
 
She could catch the faint scent of Tengu on the night wind.
 
Akira was already here; she just needed to find him.

She saw no obvious way out of the small courtyard.
 
Panels led to other rooms, but her sense of smell told her no one occupied them.
 
She looked up into the darkening sky.
 
The tiled eaves hung.
 
They would be slippery to even a cat’s paw.
 
But if she wanted to get out, she knew she had no choice.
 
She hunched up her body and leaped, landing on the tile roof with a loud clatter as she scrambled to gain purchase with her claws.

As soon as Kasumi steadied herself, she hunched over, making herself as flat as she could.
 
She knew this much noise would draw attention to the roof, and she knew she didn’t have much time.
 
She scrambled over the roof to the other side and halted.
 
Ninja warriors poured out of the long buildings, looking up at the roof.
 
Kasumi knew they’d be able to pick out her tawny shape, even under the moonless sky.

She said a prayer to Kuan Yin, the goddess of mercy, and hoped that the kami-blooded ninja did not have eyes as good as hers.
 
Whether by luck or divine intervention, the ninja were looking along another side of the roof.
 
She took a slow, steadying breath and studied the adjacent building.

Not all of the several stories had windows.
 
The third story seemed the most promising, so she carefully made her way across the tiles, using her claws to grip between the cracks.
 
The work was slow going, and she could hear her heart thunder in her ears, but she had to get off this building.

She was almost at the point where she could jump to an open window in the other building.
 
She could see no one inside.
 
Just as she paused to gather herself to spring, she heard shouts from below.

She turned with a snarl to see ninja rushing up to her side of the building.
 
Their grappling hooks would soon catch along the eaves, and they would pull themselves up.
 
On the slick tile, their numbers would give them an advantage.
 
Without a second thought, Kasumi leaped.

She heard the whirl of shuriken as she jumped.
 
The hiss of arrows followed, but she was already inside, running down the hall.
 
She did not care whether her paws betrayed her on the nightingale floors, nor did she care if she ran into genin or servants.
 
In her tiger form, she was unbeatable on steady ground.
 
Still, she did not wish to make the Shinobi into her enemy.
 
She hoped they might help the Neko against Nanashi.

She heard the ninja enter through the window she had just jumped through.
 
For humans, they were silent, but to a tiger’s ears, their movement sounded clumsy and loud.
 
She dashed down the stairs, only to see ninja coming toward her.
 
She turned down another hall and almost came to an abrupt halt.
 
The door at the far end smelled of Tengu.