The boys entered and Kate peered in from the doorway. It was bright, clean, and sparsely furnished with bunk beds, a desk, two chairs, and some metal lockers. An open door at the far side of the room revealed a white tiled bathroom.
“Normally I’d let you unpack,” said Makoto, “but your bags have probably been blown into a million pieces, so we can skip that part.”
“My favorite underpants were in my bag,” sighed Ghost.
Kate laughed, but Makoto consoled him. “Essentials like undergarments and toiletries will be provided.”
Cormac looked upset.
“Did you lose something valuable?” asked Makoto.
“Just a necklace.” Cormac put his hand up to his chest. “It’s no big deal.”
Makoto led Kate on to room 17. Cormac and Ghost followed. The door was opened by a small girl with short brown hair pulled into two pigtails. She was wearing a tracksuit and had an open book in her hand. She closed the book and bowed.
“Chloe, I have a roommate for you.” Makoto put his hand on Kate’s shoulder. “Meet Kate.”
“Finally!” said Chloe in an Australian accent. Her wide smile pushed the freckles on her cheeks up toward two big brown eyes. “Good to meet you, roomie!”
Kate shook her hand, then turned to the two boys. “This is Cormac and Ghost.”
“Awesome! More newbies!” Chloe waved at the boys. Then she looked Kate up and down. “Where’s your stuff?”
“Long story,” replied Makoto.
“Oh,” said Chloe. “Have you been initiated yet?” she asked Kate.
Kate looked at Makoto. “Erm, I don’t think so.”
“We’re going to do it now,” said Makoto. “They’ve had a tough day. Chloe, why don’t you come along—help them settle in?”
Chloe’s eyes widened. “To the actual ceremony? You bet!” She flung her book onto the bunk bed.
They followed Makoto, past many more wooden doors and a security camera, until they finally returned to the circular room—the center of the wheel.
“We’ve gone around in a loop!” said Cormac.
The group headed down the East Tunnel past doors and corridors, all guarded by security cameras with red blinking lights. They passed a glass room full of people working on computers. At one point, they met a group of kids wearing the shimmering bodysuits. The boys and girls of various nationalities chatted and laughed together, until they saw Makoto approach. Then they fell into a reverent silence, stood to one side, and bowed as he passed.
Makoto led them down a steep flight of steps into a more disused-looking tunnel. Kate shuddered to think how deep inside the mountain they must be. As they walked, she could feel the air grow cold and damp again.
“Where are we going?” she whispered to Chloe.
“To the sword room,” replied Chloe, her large eyes twinkling in the gloom.
“You seem excited.”
“I am. Most people only get to go in here once—on their first day. Thanks to you, I get to go again.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Just a few months.”
“What’s it like?”
Chloe put her finger to her lips. They had reached a gigantic steel door. Like the entrance to Renkondo, it didn’t have hinges, a handle, or a lock. Makoto tapped his chest and spoke under his breath.
The sound of large bolts clicking open could be heard, before the door slid to one side with a hydraulic hiss. When they stepped inside, it closed behind them with a robust thud, the locking mechanisms moving back into place behind the steel plate.
They followed Makoto down a concrete tunnel, the walls of which were lined with stainless-steel devices.
“Motion, sound, and temperature sensors,” explained Chloe in a whisper. “If they weren’t deactivated they’d release a VX nerve agent from the overhead sprinklers. It kills upon contact. If that didn’t get you, the high-energy impulse noise of over two hundred decibels would shatter your eardrums and you’d be dead in seconds. Survive that and you’d be facing a series of lethal assaults from automated laser and machine guns.”
“Cool!” said Ghost, looking up at the ceiling.
“You’ll learn all about it in security class.”
Rounding a bend in the tunnel, they arrived at a large concrete chamber, in the center of which stood three guards wearing helmets with dark visors, full body armor, and stun guns and swords on their belts. They also carried assault rifles.
“Fuyu,” whispered Chloe. “Elite ninja guards.”
The three sentries bowed to Makoto and stepped aside to reveal a glass case on a pedestal. Inside on a wooden stand lay a sword. The deeply lacquered black scabbard reflected the overhead lights, its smooth surface inlaid with an intricately designed moon in gold and silver. So this is the famous third sword. Kate shivered as she thought of Goda’s two crossed swords, and what it would mean for him to have all three.
Makoto removed the glass case and placed it on the ground. He then separated the hilt of the sword from the scabbard, revealing some of the polished steel engraved with flames and a moon. From behind the pedestal he produced a sheet of paper, a pen, a small pile of cloth, and a ceramic bottle and bowl. He arranged each of these carefully next to the sword, before summoning the four kids forward.
“Kneel,” he said.
Chloe knelt. Kate, Cormac, and Ghost copied.
The room fell silent. Kate’s eyes were drawn to the sword. She leaned forward to see the grain, a tempered line running down the middle of the blade. It might have been her imagination, but the metal seemed to hum and glow with a kind of energy. She looked up at Makoto, expecting something to happen. But nothing did. And then she heard the tramp of feet. Many feet.
She turned as a dozen shinobi in rippling bodysuits escorted an old man into the chamber. He wore a white kimono, and long silver hair hung to his shoulders. He stood in front of the four kids, beside Makoto and the sword, his bodyguards kneeling in a protective ring around them.
The old man’s eyes were vibrant, youthful and blue. And there was something else strange about him, something about his skin, but Kate couldn’t quite figure out what it was.
“This is our Jōnin,” said Makoto. “Our leader.”
The silver-haired man bowed, examining his new recruits in silence.
“He welcomes you to the Black Lotus,” said Makoto. “Some of you already know what it’s like to live under the oppressive rule of the Empire. Some of you fear what is coming. This is why you are here. In front of you is the third Sword of Sarumara—the secret blade. It is called the Moon Sword. Were our enemies to get their hands on it, they would be unstoppable. But as long as we hold it, there is hope. The Black Lotus’s sole purpose for five hundred years has been to protect this sword and work against the Samurai Empire. This is now your purpose too.”
As she watched the Jōnin, Kate realized what was strange about him: His skin glowed as if light burned within him. He seemed lit with luminous white light. Why doesn’t he speak for himself? She was unnerved by his silence.
“In medieval Japan,” continued Makoto, “all kids were given a sword in a coming-of-age ceremony called genpuku. This is your genpuku. Joining the Black Lotus binds you to the Moon Sword. You are its guardian—as is every member of the Black Lotus.”
Makoto called Kate forward. He pointed to a spot on the paper and told her to write the date and her signature. Half the page was covered in years and names, and after each signature there was a rust-colored smudge. The last name on the list was Chloe Jones. Kate signed her name underneath.
Flashes of color moved along the blade as Makoto placed a cloth beneath it. The tang of alcohol stung Kate’s nostrils when he poured a clear liquid from the bottle into the bowl and then dribbled it over the exposed blade. It ran down over the moon-and-flames engraving and dripped onto the cloth.
Makoto turned to Kate. “The sword is extremely sharp so place your thumb very carefully on it until it draws blood.”
&nb
sp; Blood! She glanced at Chloe, who nodded that it was OK.
Moving toward the sword, she gently placed her thumb on the razor edge. As soon as she felt her skin touch the metal she drew her hand away. A thin red line of blood scored her thumb.
“Now place your thumb on the page after your name,” said Makoto.
She did, leaving a scarlet thumbprint.
Makoto carefully wiped the blade with a new cloth before handing it to Kate. She wrapped it around her bleeding thumb and took her place on the floor beside Chloe.
The same ritual was repeated with Cormac and Ghost. When they were finished, Makoto said, “Your blood binds you to the Moon Sword until the day you die.”
As he spoke, Kate never took her eyes off the Jōnin. His very presence was commanding, and beneath his silence she sensed something powerful. The man’s bright blue eyes moved in a steady glare from one kid to the next. When his gaze fell on Kate, it felt as if he were looking into her soul.
The Jōnin bowed and left the chamber inside his protective ring of shinobi bodyguards. Makoto resheathed the blade and removed the other items, placing them inside the pedestal. He then returned the sword to its glass case and stood aside as the armed guard took up their defensive stance around it.
He motioned for them to stand. “Let’s go.”
Kate took one last look at the sword before following Makoto.
“Pretty cool, huh?” said Chloe as they approached the steel door.
“Apart from the blood.” Kate unwrapped the cloth from around her thumb. The wound had stopped bleeding, but it still stung.
“Why can’t that Jōnin guy speak?” Cormac asked Chloe.
“Rumor has it that he was tortured by Kyatapira and bit off his own tongue rather than give away secrets.”
“Cool!” said Ghost.
“What’s cool about that?” said Kate. “It’s disgusting.”
Makoto was waiting for them at the open steel door. “You guys hungry?”
“Yeah!” chorused the two boys.
Kate hadn’t thought about it until now, but she hadn’t eaten since breakfast on the airplane. She was starving.
Makoto marched ahead. Kate and Chloe followed and, behind them, Ghost and Cormac talked and laughed like they’d been friends forever.
* * *
IN THE DINING ROOM, AROUND fifty other students were chatting and laughing at long wooden tables laden with food. Chloe found them spaces, and Cormac and Ghost were soon stuffing their faces with rice, sushi, and other Japanese delicacies.
Kate looked across at Chloe. All my life I thought I was a freak, that I was the only one like this. And here I am in a school—
“I was the same,” said Chloe. “I hid my talent until I came here.”
Kate stared at her.
“Sorry,” said Chloe, holding her hands up. “Force of habit. I didn’t mean to listen.”
“But I didn’t say anything. Unless … ”
Chloe smiled.
“No!”
Chloe laughed. “Yes.”
“You can hear thoughts?”
Chloe smiled. “I prefer ‘read minds.’ ”
“Wow!”
Kate helped herself to some noodles and steamed vegetables. They smelled delicious.
“So what’s your special power, Kate?” asked Chloe.
“You’re the mind reader.”
“OK, say it in your thoughts.”
I can talk to animals.
“Awesome!” said Chloe. “Can you understand them too?”
Kate nodded.
“I inherited my ability from my grandmother,” said Chloe. “She was a famous fortune-teller in Australia. Madame Mist was her name. Well, her stage name. Maybe you’ve heard of her?”
Kate shook her head.
“Does someone in your family have the same gift as you?” Chloe asked.
“Nope.”
“I bet if you searched hard enough, you’d find someone like you—a horse whisperer, or a lion tamer, or something like that.”
“Listen, you’re talking to Kate Douglas of the Douglas family dating back to … ”
Talking about her family hurt. So did thinking about them. Chloe probably didn’t have to be a mind reader to know the conversation was over.
“Sorry,” said Chloe, shifting her attention to Ghost and Cormac instead.
“Makoto is important?” asked Ghost, nodding toward another table, where a group of adults was listening intently to Makoto. He was still wearing his black Kat uniform.
“Yes,” said Chloe. “The Jōnin is the boss. But Makoto runs the show.”
“Who are the other guys?” asked Ghost.
“More teachers,” said Chloe. “The small bald guy with the braided goatee is Sensei Iwamoto. He teaches martial arts, weapons and stuff. The big guy with the buzz cut is the Bear. He’s an idiot.”
“What does he teach?” asked Cormac.
“Physical training.”
“Important question,” said Ghost. “Who is the lady?”
Kate looked at the only female teacher. Her skin was white and flawless, like porcelain. In contrast, her sleek hair was so black it looked almost purple.
Chloe laughed. “Why am I not surprised? All the guys love Ami. She’s in charge of equipment, technology, and gadgets. She’s nice.”
From across the room, Ami glanced over at them and smiled, but quickly returned to her conversation.
“I agree,” said Ghost.
Chloe shook her head. “I meant she’s a nice person.”
When they’d finished their meal, the teachers left the room and the students stood as they did so.
Makoto stopped at their table. “You look like you’re settling in,” he said approvingly. “Does anyone have any questions?”
“Please can we get rid of these tattoos now?” asked Cormac, holding up his wrists.
Makoto nodded.
Cormac immediately began rubbing his wrist, the temporary sword tattoo flaking onto the table like ashes. Kate and Ghost copied. Kate’s sense of relief when the ink was gone surprised her. It felt like she’d just removed handcuffs.
Ghost raised his hand. “Why do you speak English, not Japanese?”
“The Japanese language is still our mother tongue, but when the Black Lotus first formed in medieval Japan, they used English as a means to communicate secretly. When we began to recruit people from around the world, it made sense to continue using this ‘international’ language.”
A bell rang overhead.
“What’s that?” asked Kate.
“That’s the lights-out warning. We’re quite strict here about bedtimes. You have ten minutes to return to your room, which you are not permitted to leave until morning. You guys should get to bed—we’ve an early start tomorrow.”
Makoto seemed to be waiting for a reply so they all nodded.
“Then I’ll say good night.” He bowed. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
It’s me.
Ghost’s eyes snapped open. Miguel! His heart was beating like crazy. He looked around but could see nothing in the pitch dark. Trembling, he leaped from the bed and switched on the light. Nothing. He was sure he’d heard it.
His brother’s voice.
“What the … ?” grumbled Cormac from the bottom bunk.
Ghost threw open the bathroom door and flicked the switch. His reflection stared back at him from the mirror. He was plastered in sweat.
“What’s wrong?” asked Cormac.
“Nothing—just a dream.” He switched off the lights and climbed back into bed. It hadn’t felt like a dream. It had felt like his little brother was really speaking to him. But it couldn’t be true. Miguel was dead. He had died in the fire two years ago.
The scar on Ghost’s chest burned as the day replayed in his mind like a video clip.
As two orphans living alone in the favela, Ghost was solely responsible for Miguel’s care. Normally he didn’t mind, but that day his friends had organized a big
football match in the street, so he’d left Miguel in front of the TV.
Miguel hated being left alone, and he’d pleaded with Ghost not to go, but Ghost didn’t listen.
His team was a goal down with only five minutes left. When the ball landed at his feet, he took off down the left wing, skipping over a sliding tackle. As he approached the goal, someone shouted, “Kats!” Everyone ran.
Gunshots exploded nearby, followed by three young men sprinting across the street and into Ghost’s block of shacks. In the brief moment of silence that followed, a faint blare of TV cartoons drifted down from Ghost’s open window.
From behind the burned-out shell of a car, Ghost watched in horror as the Kats launched a firebomb at his house. The mishmash of wood, cardboard, and plastic immediately burst into flames. People poured out of the building, shouting, pushing, and carrying small children. He battled through them and was almost to the stairs when his friends stopped him. He screamed and kicked, and tried to run into the crumbling bonfire just as another explosion blasted him into unconsciousness.
Cormac grumbled something in his sleep, snapping Ghost out of his flashback. He rubbed his chest and blinked away the tears.
* * *
FOR THE REMAINDER OF THE night, Ghost slept restlessly. He was awake when the bedroom door flew open and the lights came on.
“Rise and shine, ladies!” shouted a man in an American accent. “You’ve got four minutes to get your butts dressed and outside.”
Ghost recognized the guy. What had Chloe said his name was? Wolf or Bear or something? He was built like a mountain, hardened muscle bulging beneath his army fatigues. Even his head seemed to be carved from a cube of granite, his blond buzz cut formed into four sharp corners on top.
The door slammed shut.
Ghost climbed down out of the bunk and poked Cormac, who was shielding his eyes under the blanket.
“What time is it?” he groaned.
Ghost put on the T-shirt and tracksuit bottoms he’d been wearing yesterday. “Time to get up.”
This was so weird. Living alone, he would get up whenever he felt like it. Every morning, he’d open the door of his hut and see how high the sun was in the sky before deciding what to do. Now here he was in a school, deep inside the middle of a mountain, being told when to get up.
The Black Lotus Page 5
