Ninja Vs Samurai (Part 1)

by James Harden

Ninja Vs Samurai

  Part 1

  By James Harden

  Copyright © 2013 by James Harden

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events locales or organisations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of the author.

  It has been twenty long years since the Dark Shogun’s victory at the Great War. After the war, everyone expected peace. Everyone wanted peace.

  But in the twenty years since the war there has been only fear and uncertainty and oppression.

  The Shogun, with the approval of Emperor Yozei, has outlawed the Samurai class and the public display of swords.

  He has outlawed the use of Ninja and the practice of Ninjutsu.

  He has outlawed the Kensei order, the legendary Sword Saints of Japan.

  After the Kensei surrendered, he began systematically dismantling the great Samurai clans.

  The Shogun's army would be the only military force.

  The Ninja clans retreated to their secret mountain villages.

  The great Samurai clans chose to fight.

  They were crushed.

  The Shogun's army is too massive. Too ruthless.

  The Dark Shogun now rules the country with absolute power.

  Some say he is invincible. Some say he is a God.

  Only a handful of Samurai clans remain. Only a handful of Kensei warriors remain.

  But not for long…

  Ito Isamu and the Massacre at Kumamoto Castle

  Isamu knelt on the matted floor in a room deep within Kumamoto Castle. A single candle illuminated the darkness. The flame was long and still.

  Isamu clumsily poured himself another drink of rice wine, filling his cup so that it overflowed. He lifted the drink to his lips and downed it in one gulp. The room began to spin.

  For nearly twenty years, since the end of the Great War, Isamu had been a guest, or more accurately a tourist attraction at Kumamoto Castle. Billed as the ‘Last Kensei Master’, the ‘Last Sword Saint’, people would come from all over to get a glimpse of the old warrior.

  And for twenty years he had eased this humiliation and suffering with alcohol.

  Isamu knew the title of the ‘Last Kensei Master’ wasn’t entirely accurate. He wasn’t sure of the actual number of surviving members but he knew he wasn’t the last. And he also knew there weren’t many Kensei left. Hundreds had died during the Great War at the hands of the Dark Shogun along with tens of thousands of Samurai. And since the end of the war, even more had died. The Kensei order had been outlawed. Their numbers had been decimated.

  Most of them now survived in hiding.

  Isamu had heard the whispered rumors that the Kensei were being hunted by the Dark Shogun and his assassins, but he did not believe them. No one was powerful enough or skilled enough to hunt down and kill the Kensei.

  Not the Dark Shogun.

  Not his army.

  Not his assassins.

  The only enemy capable of such a feat were the demon Ninja known as the Immortals. But no one had seen or heard from them in centuries. As far as anyone knew, the old Kensei warriors had banished the Immortals to the deepest pit of hell. And that is where they had remained ever since.

  Isamu downed another drink.

  The wine has hit me hard tonight, he thought.

  Outside in the hallway he heard a noise that sounded like a muffled cry. He wiped the wine off his mouth and chin. A split second later a slight disturbance broke the calm of the room. The flame of the candle moved, its shadows coming to life.

  Isamu began slowly reaching for his katana. The sword was resting next to him in its scabbard.

  “Do not move,” a voice spoke from the dark.

  It was a voice that Isamu knew well. “Goda,” he whispered. “Only someone as reckless and desperate as you would dare infiltrate Kumamoto Castle.”

  “I disagree. The guards here have become complacent and arrogant. Their arrogance has cost them dearly. You all think you are so far away from the capital, from the Shogun’s wrath. But there is nowhere you can hide. Nowhere you can run. The guards were weak. The guards are no more.”

  Isamu tensed. Goda had already killed tonight. “Why are you here?”

  “You know why,” Goda answered. “I am here for you. The Shogun’s elite is near. They will take hostages back to the capital. They will force the Kumamoto Samurai to lay down their swords. If they do not obey, they will die. And Kumamoto will be burnt to the ground.”

  “The Samurai will not surrender,” Isamu said; his hand almost upon the hilt of his sword. “They will fight.”

  “I thought I told you not to move,” Goda warned.

  “Why don't you come over here and stop me?” Isamu challenged.

  “It saddens me to see you like this. Drunk and pathetic. You were a Master. You were my Master. You were one of the greatest warriors of all time.”

  “That’s all in the past now,” Isamu sighed.

  “You should've joined your brothers a long time ago. You could restore what little honor you have left.”

  Isamu laughed. “Honor? You’re one to talk. Tell me, how many people have you killed for money?”

  “I don't kill for money. Not anymore.”

  The words of Goda sent a chill down Isamu’s spine. Something was wrong. He could sense a change in his former pupil. It had been so many long years since Isamu had seen Goda. In that time, Goda had used his deadly talents to become one of the most feared assassins in the entire country. A killer for hire. Goda used the skills he had honed as a Kensei warrior, the skills that Isamu had taught him over years of relentless training to forge a name for himself and a career of death. So successful was Goda in this dark art, he had become infamous. He had become known as the Red Ninja on account of his distinctive blood-red clothing and armor. If you were unfortunate enough to ever see the Red Ninja it meant that you were seconds away from death. Or so the saying went.

  But that was a long time ago.

  After the Dark Shogun had dismantled the Samurai class and outlawed the use of Ninja, no one had seen Goda. There had been no reports of activity, no assassinations. Nothing. He had simply vanished.

  “So, if you don’t kill for money anymore, then why?” Isamu asked. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m here for you. And I’m here for your secrets.”

  “So the rumors are true?” Isamu said. “The Kensei are being hunted? They are being hunted by one of their own.”

  “To kill a snake, you must cut off the head. If we hunt and kill the Kensei, the other Samurai will not stand a chance against us.”

  “Us?”

  “The Shogun. The Emperor.”

  “So you’re working for the Shogun now?”

  “In a manner of speaking.”

  “How many Kensei have you killed?”

  Goda retrieved a scroll from his sleeve. He unrolled it to show a long list of names that were crossed out with blood. Only a handful of names remained. Goda tossed the scroll over to Isamu.

  Isamu saw his own name. Saw that it was crossed out. “Why is my name already crossed out?”

  “Because you are already dead.”

  Isamu held his sword, took a deep breath and stood slowly. The room spun faster as he faced his former pupil.

  For a moment they stared at each other without speaking.

  Isamu remembered the long hours he had spent training and teaching his young apprentice. He remembered how Goda w
ould question every instruction and everything he was told. How he would argue every point and would never accept that he was wrong. Or accept defeat. His stubbornness was perhaps his greatest strength.

  “I do not want to kill you,” Goda whispered. “You were like a father to me. But it was decided that I was the best suited for the job.”

  “I don’t want to kill you either,” Isamu replied as he widened his stance. “But I will defend myself. I am not allowed to leave this world just yet.”

  Isamu visualized the attack. His sword would fly through the air and strike in one fluid motion, almost of its own accord. He inhaled slowly and made his move.

  He grabbed the handle of his sword, ready to attack. But something was wrong. There was no fluid motion. His arms felt heavy. He struggled to keep his balance.

  “How much have you had to drink tonight, old man?” Goda mocked.

  Isamu stumbled. This wasn’t the effects of alcohol. This was something else. He struck out with his sword in a wild swopping arc. Goda stepped back and the sword sliced through the air. Isamu immediately felt nauseas. His vision became blurry. He dropped his sword. He hunched over and vomited.

  “Quite toxic, isn’t it?” Goda taunted. “This particular poison is extremely lethal. It attacks the nervous system, causing death by paralysis.”

  Isamu looked over at Goda, standing in the shadows as he always did.

  “But this is no ordinary poison,” he said menacingly.

  Goda took a step towards Isamu. He seemed to grow in size and spilt into multiple beings. Isamu was completely surrounded by an army of red assassins.

  It must be the poison playing tricks on my mind, he thought. I must be seeing things.

  Isamu vomited again. He could feel the poison tighten its grip on his body. He started to lose feeling in his limbs. “Goda,” he said, struggling to talk. “What have you become?”

  Goda stood over the dying Master. “I have become more powerful than any Kensei. I am Immortal.”

  “Immortal,” Isamu whispered under his breath. “That’s impossible. The Immortals were destroyed.”

  “I assure you, it is possible,” he said as he leant down and grabbed Isamu’s hair, pulling his head back. “Now tell me, where is the Sword of Souls?”

  Isamu eyes widened in horror. How did he know about the sword?

  “I can end your suffering,” Goda said. “Just tell me where it is.”

  Isamu knew that Goda could not be allowed to get his hands on such a powerful weapon. And yet he felt a strange urge to share this important piece of information with his enemy.

  “Interesting side-effect of the poison, wouldn’t you agree?” Goda said.

  Isamu tightened his jaw, trying desperately not to blurt out the hidden location of the sword.

  Goda continued to revel in the demise of his old Master. “It turns out that this particular toxin acts as both a poison and as a truth serum.”

  Isamu tried to crawl away but he could barely move.

  “So you see old man,” Goda said. “Before you die, you will tell me all your secrets.”