Samurai Son (4 page)

The Tengu nodded in approval.
 
“Now if you wish my help in your training, you must keep our lessons a secret.
 
Can you do this?”

Akira nodded, unable to believe his luck.
 
A kami would be teaching him the basics of martial arts.
 
He could barely speak in his excitement.
 
“I will!
 
I won’t tell anyone about this.”

“Good.
 
Come here tomorrow at the same time.
 
We’ll work on your bokken some more.”
 
With that, the Tengu disappeared.

Akira drank the rest of the elixir.
 
With a joyous cry, he started down the mountain, feeling as though he could fly down to home below.

Chapter Five

It was nearly midnight when Keiko entered the Neko shrine on the far side of the island.
 
An old shrine considered long abandoned, its crumbling stone walls were covered with climbing vines and bamboo.
 
The writing across the stone was illegible, worn from the weather of thousands of years.
 
The door, still intact, had rust coating the hinges and the bronze had oxidized to a pale green.
 
Keiko smiled as she pushed against the doors.
 
While humans had abandoned this shrine, there were other denizens within.

The door groaned inward.
 
She pushed through, half surprised to see the oil lamps lit and catch the musky scent of incense wafting through the entry.
 
Keiko slipped inside and looked around.
 
To a human, it would look dark and barren.
 
But to a kami, the temple shone as it truly was—bright and full of gold and bronze.

She considered the temple with her human sight.
 
A human would see throngs of feral cats within.
 
But a kami—a full kami—would see the world as it truly was.
 
Men and women, adorned in the finest clothing, filled the bright temple where a statue of Maneki Neko, the cat of good fortune, sat.
 
She bowed to the cat god and saw that the other Neko were looking curiously at her.

“Keiko-san?”

She turned around and saw a priest in yellow robes.
 
He was small and frail, but she looked beyond that and into his sea green eyes.
 
“Isamu-sama,” she whispered.
 
She bowed low.

He bowed as well.
 
“Keiko-san.”
 
He took her hands in his.
 
They were warm and dry.
 
“What brings you to Maneki Neko’s temple, child?”

“My daughter,” she said softly.

“Kasumi, the half-blood, yes?”

She nodded once.
 
“She was where she shouldn’t be—in Nanashi’s private rooms.”

Isamu raised an eyebrow.
 
“Come with me.”

She nodded hurriedly and followed the man toward one of the alcoves within the temple.
 
She smiled as she saw Maneki Neko painted across the temple’s walls.
 
They would need Maneki Neko’s help in this, she thought.

“What is it that she saw, Keiko-san?”

“She saw Nanashi summon an oni.”

Silence ensued.
 
The priest frowned.
 
A bell rang over by the dais, and the Neko turned and began their prayers.
 
Isamu didn’t move; his catlike eyes became slits.
 
Keiko saw no other emotion in the old priest.

A lesser Neko might have mistaken the priest’s silence for one of incredulity or perhaps of deference or confusion, but Keiko knew better.
 
She could see the telltale flicker of the nictitating membranes that signaled his inward mindspeak with the high priestess.
 
Keiko and even Kasumi could mindspeak, but the distance was greatly limited.
 
Only the oldest and most powerful of the Neko shamans could speak across islands.

The old man’s eyes cleared, and he looked on Keiko with a power that she knew came from the Guardian, Kanayo, herself.
 
She was now speaking to both Isamu and the Guardian
 
“Are you certain that is what the girl saw?” Isamu asked lightly.

“She is my daughter.
 
She may be half-kami, but she is all Neko,” Keiko said softly.
 
“Her face was terribly pale.
 
I know she saw what she said she saw.”

“Then the oni know that we know,” Isamu said.
 
“Your daughter has risked us all in her curiosity.”

Keiko felt anger well in her stomach, and her throat tightened.
 
“No, Guardian.
 
We are already threatened.
 
Kasumi says that Nanashi brought the demon into this world to find a way to become emperor.
 
He wants to bring oni through the demon gate….”
 
Her voice trailed off as the old priest turned his back on her.
 
“Surely you believe me?”

Isamu turned back to her, his fragile face tight and worried.
 
“Keiko, you speak of demons.
 
For thousands of years, we’ve guarded the demon gate.
 
Surely Nanashi isn’t powerful enough to open another gate.”

“But there have been stories of sorcerers who have opened small portals,” she objected.
 
“You remember such times, surely, Guardian Kanayo.”

Isamu shook his head.
 
“I remember well, Keiko-chan.
 
It was a dark time when the demon summoners walked the earth.
 
Are you saying that you think your daughter really saw a summoning?
 
That it wasn’t a trick of light or an illusion?”

“Kasumi can change, just as we can,” she said.
 
“She can see through illusions of men just as you or I.
 
If she says she saw an oni, I would believe her.”

“How did she get into Nanashi’s apartments?”

“As a Neko.”

“And he did not detect her?”

Keiko shook her head.
 
“If he did, he wouldn’t have let her slip into the room.
 
She can take a form of a tiny cat if necessary.”

A silence ensued.
 
Isamu closed his eyes, and Keiko watched the unspoken conversation between the priest and the Guardian.
 
When Isamu opened his eyes, she could see there was a resolution.
 
“Daughter, you did well to tell us this.
 
If Nanashi does intend to destroy us, then we had best find allies who can help us.”

“What of the Shinobi?” Keiko asked.
 
“They have an entire army that they could bring to our aid.”

“The Shinobi are fickle,” Isamu said in the voice of the Guardian.
 
“They go to the highest bidder, and we have reason to believe that Nanashi has hired them.”

Keiko frowned.
 
The Neko were not a rich clan, even though they guarded the
Kimon,
the demon-gate, carefully.
 
She knew that Nanashi had much money and more resources to bring to bear than the Neko ever could.
 
“Surely there is an alliance.
 
Surely they would come to our aid.”

“These are troubled times,” Isamu said.
 
“Nanashi has money.”

Keiko swallowed hard and lowered her head.
 
“Then what are we to do?
 
If Nanashi destroys our clan...”

“There are other kami who may aid us.”

“Others?”

“You know of the rival clan of Takeshi?”

Keiko nodded.
 
“They are people with honor.”

“That is because Takeshi is a daimyo with honor,” Isamu said.
 
“But Takeshi can only bring his samurai to our aid.
 
His consort, Ikumi, will be able to help us.”

“I know Ikumi.
 
She will aid us if she can.
 
But I cannot leave here without drawing attention.
 
Naotaka is sworn to serve Nanashi.
 
If I leave, it will garner attention.
 
Even a fool like Nanashi could figure out that I sensed his demon summoning.”

“What about your daughter?” Isamu asked.

“Kasumi?”

He nodded.
 
“She is young, even though she is of age.
 
It is unlikely that Nanashi would see her as a threat.”

Keiko frowned.
 
“She is quite capable, but I worry what would happen if Nanashi suspected anything.
 
He is an evil man, and he will hunt her down if he suspects her mission.
 
Can’t you send a messenger from Neko-shima?”

“It would take far longer than the time we have if what you say is true.
 
What’s more, if we send a delegation from Neko-shima, it will surely be seen.
 
Nanashi may move quickly to attack us.”

Keiko sighed.
 
“Very well, then.
 
She would have to travel with one of her half brothers.
 
It would make the disguise complete.”

Isamu nodded.
 
“Go, then.
 
And may Maneki Neko be with you.”
 
The priest closed his eyes and sagged visibly.
 
“Go, my sister, and do as the Guardian asks.
 
Your daughter may have saved our lives.”

Chapter Six

Akira had just made it through the front gate that protected his family’s estate when he saw Rokuro walking toward him.
 
The old sensei carried two bokken and frowned as he saw Akira enter.
 
“Where have you been?”
 
He wrinkled his nose as he saw that Akira’s gi stained with sweat and dirt.
 
“You’re a mess.
 
Don’t you have any respect for your clothing?”

Akira bowed.
 
“Rokuro sensei.
 
I lost track of time.
 
I’m sorry.”

Rokuro harrumphed and eyed Akira’s bokken in his hand.
 
“Have you been out practicing?”

“Yes, Sensei.”

For a fleeting moment, Rokuro looked pleased, but soon the harsh expression came back.
 
“Okay, let’s see what you practiced.”

Akira had hoped to spend time in the bath before training again, but it appeared Rokuro would not allow him that simple pleasure.
 
Instead, Akira bowed and put himself in ready position.
 
He stepped forward, cutting the air with the bokken in the eight cuts the Tengu had taught him.
 
Then he began the sword kata Rokuro had taught him earlier that week.
 
As he finished, Rokuro raised his hand.

“Yes, Sensei?”

“Let’s try the master/apprentice
swordwork
,” said Rokuro.

Akira swallowed hard.
 
Rokuro must have been pleased by what he saw, Akira thought.
 
He wouldn’t teach Akira something new until he was certain Akira had learned the basics.
 
Slowly Rokuro showed Akira the movements he needed to make to do a two-man kata.
 
Naturally Rokuro taught him the apprentice first.
 
He did each move slowly so Akira could mimic it before moving on.
 
After an hour of this training, Akira found himself sore and sweaty again.
 
He wondered how long Rokuro would work him.

“No, not like that!” Rokuro said, bringing Akira out of his reverie.
 
“Pay attention!
 
Think!
 
Don’t let your mind wander!”

Akira chewed on the inside of his cheek and tried to mimic Rokuro’s movements, but the elixir was wearing off, and his muscles were growing fatigued.
 
He closed his eyes and tried to follow the movements within his mind’s eye.
 
Suddenly he was knocked off his feet and fell over into the mud.

“Ow!” Akira protested.

Rokuro frowned.
 
“Keep your eyes open.
 
You can’t fight a battle with your eyes closed.”

Akira felt like arguing but instead stood up and brushed the mud off his gi the best he could.
 
He wondered how long they had been training since he had returned from seeing the Tengu.
 
His stomach growled, and he suspected that dinner would soon be ready.

“Again!” Rokuro said.

Akira took a deep breath and walked through the kata slowly.
 
Rokuro watched him as Akira forced himself to put his sword in the exact position Rokuro showed him.
 
Rokuro showed no emotion as he finished each cut and block then stepped back into ready stance and dropped back to his knees, slipping the bokken in his belt.

Rokuro snorted.
 
“Do it again.”

Akira bit his lip.
 
Couldn’t his sensei see that this was the best he could do?
 
He bowed then restarted the sequence.
 
The muscles in his arms tightened up, and his legs screamed in pain.
 
Still he concentrated as he forced the bokken to move where he wanted it to.
 
His movements were clumsy and wooden; he could not believe that he did any better or learned any more by forcing himself to repeat the same exercise over and over again.
 
But just as he finished, he caught a small glint in Rokuro’s eyes.
 
Something within that glint told him that his master might be pleased.
 
But as quickly as the glint appeared, so it vanished.

“Enough!” said Rokuro.

Akira went back into natural stance and bowed low.
 
He waited quietly, his hands in front of his body and his fingers curled into fists.

Rokuro walked around him slowly.
 
“I’m seeing some improvement.
 
I see you’ve been practicing as I have asked.”

“Yes, Sensei.”
 
Akira could hardly keep from grinning.
 
The Tengu
had
helped him with his training.
 
He wondered how much the Tengu would be able to continue helping him.

Rokuro made the full circle.
 
“That’s good.
 
Keep training.
 
You will need to practice more.
 
You’ve made some improvement, but you can do better.”

“Yes, Sensei.”

“Now go.
 
Your dinner is undoubtedly ready, and Ikumi is waiting to spoil you.”

Akira bowed again and Rokuro gave a shallow bow in response.
 
Akira turned and ran quickly toward home, where he knew his mother, Ikumi, would be waiting for dinner.
 
He took off his sandals and headed inside.