The Way of the Dragon

by Unknown

  Jack pulled himself to his feet and stumbled into the thicket, but he knew he had little chance of survival. His fate was sealed as a third ninja dropped down in front of him and blocked his escape.

  This ninja wore a black shinobi shozoku.

  For a moment, no one moved.

  Then the black ninja kicked Jack in the chest, throwing him backwards. At the same time a shuriken knife plunged into a bamboo stem right where Jack had just been standing.

  Before Jack could register what had happened, the black ninja attacked him again. This time sweeping him off his feet. He landed hard upon the ground only to see the green ninja above him, in mid-strike, his shuko claws swiping through thin air instead of gouging deep into Jack’s back.

  The green ninja hissed in frustration, then glared in furious amazement at the black ninja. He struck with his claws, but the black ninja blocked and countered with a lightning spear-hand thrust to the throat. The green ninja gagged and staggered backwards. He went on the attack again, swiping with his shuko, but the black ninja stood his ground, calmly drew a tantō and sliced a cruel line across the green ninja’s chest. Staring down in shock as blood soaked his chest, the green ninja backed away, then fled in panic into the thicket.

  The black ninja turned on Jack, blade in hand.

  Jack stared up in terror.

  ‘Jack!’ came a cry.

  The black ninja didn’t hesitate.

  Flicking the blood from the blade, the ninja leapt up a bamboo stem, disappeared into the canopy and was gone.

  Moments later, Yamato burst through the thicket to find Jack lying on the ground, his arms bloodied and his face a curious combination of fear and disbelief.

  ‘Are you all right?’ demanded Yamato, his bō staff raised to fight. ‘I found Orochi dead. What happened?’

  ‘We were attacked by ninja and they killed him,’ replied Jack, grimacing as he inspected his wounds. Though the score marks weren’t deep, they were painful. ‘Then they came after me, but… but I was saved by another ninja.’

  ‘Saved? Are you sure you haven’t fallen on your head?’ said Yamato, helping him to his feet. ‘The ninja are our sworn enemy.’

  ‘I’m sure of it. Twice this ninja stopped the other one killing me.’

  ‘Well, I’ve never heard of a guardian ninja!’ laughed Yamato. ‘Whatever the reason, you should be grateful.’

  ‘Yes. But what is the reason?’

  ‘Who knows, but we’d better get back to Akiko if ninja are around.’

  ‘First, let’s search this ninja,’ replied Jack, going over to the prone body of the fallen assassin.

  ‘But what about Akiko?’

  ‘It won’t take long. Besides, she can handle herself.’ They both knew this to be true, though Jack didn’t want to admit that she was still weak from her poisoning and therefore vulnerable. He would have to work quickly.

  ‘What are you looking for?’ asked Yamato.

  ‘I don’t know,’ answered Jack, rifling through the man’s garments. ‘A clue of some sort.’

  Yamato looked around uneasily, worried the other ninja would come back. Jack beckoned him over.

  ‘Look at this.’ Jack held up the man’s hand. ‘A finger’s missing.’ He pulled off the cowl to reveal the ninja’s face. A thin stream of blood ran out of the corner of the man’s mouth.

  ‘So what?’ said Yamato.

  ‘Don’t you recognize him? He was one of the customers who entered the bar after us. No wonder Orochi ran. He must have known they were after him.’

  Jack continued to search the ninja. He found a length of hooked climbing rope attached to the back of his belt, five shuriken stars, some tetsu bishi spikes in a pouch and an inro case containing several pills and some unidentifiable powder. On the man’s hip was a tantō.

  Jack unsheathed the knife, cursing as the blade cut into his thumb.

  ‘Careful, Jack!’ said Yamato. ‘It could be poisoned.’

  ‘Thanks for the warning,’ replied Jack grimly, sucking the blood from his wound.

  The blade gleamed maliciously in the forest light. A series of kanji characters could be seen etched into the steel.

  ‘What does that say?’ asked Jack, whose knowledge of kanji was still limited despite Akiko’s daily tuition.

  ‘Kunitome!’ growled the ninja who had come to. He seized Jack by the throat. ‘It’s the name of the maker of the blade.’

  Jack gasped for air, the fierce grip of the ninja crushing his windpipe. Too shocked by the man’s unexpected revival, Jack forgot all his training and futilely tugged at the man’s hand.

  Yamato rushed forward and kicked the ninja in the ribs, but the assassin refused to let go. Jack’s face turned bright red, his eyes bulging. Yamato lifted his bō staff and struck the ninja’s broken leg. Writhing in agony, the ninja released Jack and Yamato quickly dragged his friend beyond the assassin’s reach.

  ‘A samurai stealing,’ the ninja spat, in between pained gasps. ‘How dishonourable!’

  ‘We weren’t stealing. We were looking for clues,’ croaked Jack, getting unsteadily to his feet. ‘I needed to know who you were and where Dragon Eye is.’

  The ninja gave a throaty laugh and more blood bubbled from his lips.

  ‘We should turn him in, Jack. Take him to Ueno Castle,’ suggested Yamato, uneasy with interrogating a ninja. It was as dangerous as taunting a wounded lion. ‘They’ll get the truth from him.’

  ‘No,’ Jack countered. ‘But maybe he’d be willing to tell us about Dragon Eye in exchange for his life?’

  ‘No samurai can command my life,’ replied the ninja, removing a dark round bead from the inro on his belt.

  Popping it into his mouth, he bit down hard on the poison pill and his lips started to foam.

  ‘You’ll never find Dokugan Ryu, young samurai,’ he croaked with his last breath. ‘But he’ll find you…’

  4

  THE DEMON BLADE

  ‘THAT was a stupid idea!’ exclaimed Yamato, ignoring the sencha offered to him by Akiko. ‘Once again you almost got yourself killed!’

  ‘But now we know where Dragon Eye’s camp is,’ Jack protested. ‘It’s near Shindo. That’s less than half a day’s journey from here. We can’t give up now.’

  Jack looked to Akiko for support. She finished sipping her tea and was about to speak, but Yamato broke in.

  ‘All you have is the name of a village and a temple. Do you think we’ll simply drop in and find Dokugan Ryu and his ninja clan enjoying afternoon tea? Anyway, Orochi was a thief and probably lying. It’s a miracle we got Akiko’s pearl back.’

  ‘But this lead’s got to be worth chasing,’ insisted Jack. ‘It was fate when we bumped into that tea merchant. We were meant to find Orochi. The fact that ninja attacked us and Orochi got killed is proof we’re on the right path.’

  ‘No! We’re already in enough trouble with my father as it is. I can’t risk it again. He would never forgive me. And then we’ll never return to the Niten Ichi Ryū!’

  Yamato ended the conversation by turning his back on Jack. He stared out across the ravine from their tea house to the rocky heights opposite. Located on a ridge beside the Tokaido Road, the Kameyama tea house commanded a spectacular view and attracted numerous visitors from Kyoto. Following the glorious summer day, the tea house was packed with travellers watching the sun set over the rugged beauty of the mountains.

  Jack moodily toyed with the dead ninja’s tantō, its gleaming steel marked only by a patch of dry blood where Jack had cut his thumb the day before. After the ninja had committed suicide with the poison pill, Jack had decided to keep the blade. Besides, it was the only weapon he now possessed since their suspension from the Niten Ichi Ryū.

  He didn’t blame Masamoto for his decision. He realized now that he’d been foolish to try and hide the existence of his father’s rutter from the one man who could truly protect him from Dragon Eye. But Jack had thought he’d been protecting his guardian Masamoto by keeping it secret. J
ack’s father had made him swear not to tell anyone of the logbook’s existence; had entrusted him with the code that kept its information safe from prying eyes. It had been his responsibility to ensure the rutter never fell into the wrong hands. At the time Jack hadn’t known whom to trust with such a valuable and sought-after possession, so he hadn’t told anyone. And that was why he’d hidden it in daimyo Takatomi’s castle.

  The rutter was also his last link to his father and his only chance of a secure future. He’d had to do all he could to protect it. If one day he ever did reach the port of Nagasaki, his experience as a rigging monkey and his ability as a navigator would hopefully gain him passage on-board a ship bound for England where Jess, his little sister, was still waiting for his return.

  Or at least he hoped she was. Without a family in England, her future was as uncertain as his. But with the rutter he could look after both of them as the respected pilot of a ship, just like his father had been before Dragon Eye murdered him in cold blood.

  The deadly steel of the tantō seemed to throb in Jack’s hand at the very thought of Dragon Eye garrotting his father. Revenge flashed through his mind. Everything Jack held dear to him had been taken by that ninja – his father, the rutter and almost Akiko’s life too.

  When Jack and his father had set out with the Dutch crew of the Alexandria from England four years ago, they had dreamt of discovering new lands, making their fortune and returning home heroes. Not for one moment had Jack thought he would end up alone, in a dangerous foreign land, training to be a samurai warrior.

  But now he wouldn’t even be doing that.

  ‘Where did you get that knife?’ demanded the owner of the tea house, breaking Jack’s thoughts as the old man cleared away their cups of sencha.

  ‘We found it… in a forest,’ Jack replied, the question taking him by surprise.

  The proprietor’s beady eyes studied him with an unsettling intensity. He clearly didn’t believe Jack.

  ‘Do you know what that is?’ the old man enquired, his gaze not leaving Jack’s face, almost as if he was unwilling to look back down at the knife.

  ‘It’s a tantō…’

  ‘Yes, but not just any tantō…’ The proprietor drew closer and spoke under his breath, not with reverence, but with fear. ‘That knife was forged by the swordsmith Kunitome-san.’

  ‘We know,’ interjected Yamato, annoyed by the owner’s prying. ‘It says so on the blade.’

  ‘You know! Yet you still keep it?’

  ‘Why not?’ asked Jack, baffled by the owner’s strange behaviour.

  ‘Surely you’ve heard that Kunitome-san’s swords are evil. They’re not the weapons of a virtuous samurai,’ he explained, looking at Yamato. ‘Kunitome-san’s work is infamous round these parts. He resides but ten ri west of here in the village of Shindo.’

  At the mention of the village’s name, Jack glanced over at Akiko and Yamato. Both their faces registered the same astonishment he felt. This was too much of a coincidence.

  ‘Kunitome-san is a violent man and possesses an ill-balanced mind, some say verging on madness,’ confided the proprietor. ‘These traits are said to pass into his blades. Such a weapon as yours hungers for blood, impels their owner to commit murder!’

  Jack gazed down at the tantō. It looked like any other knife, but then he recalled the throb of revenge it triggered in him when he thought of his father’s death.

  ‘We appreciate your concern,’ said Akiko, a wry smile on her lips, ‘but we’re too old to believe in such superstitions. You can’t scare us.’

  ‘I’m not trying to scare you. I’m trying to warn you.’

  The proprietor put down his tray.

  ‘If you would allow me to tell you a story, then you might understand.’

  Akiko politely acknowledged his request with a nod of her head and the old man knelt beside them.

  ‘Kunitome-san is a student of the greatest swordsmith to have ever lived, Shizu-san of the Soshu School of Sword-making. Several years ago, Kunitome-san challenged his master to see who could make the finer sword. They both worked at their forges day and night. Eventually Kunitomesan produced a magnificent weapon he called Juuchi Yosamu, Ten Thousand Cold Nights. Shizu-san also completed his, which he named Yawaraka-Te, Tender Hands. With both swords finished, they agreed to test the results.

  ‘The contest was for each to suspend their blades in a small creek with the cutting edge facing the current. A local monk was asked to preside over the competition. Kunitome-san went first. His sword sliced through everything that flowed its way – dead leaves, a lotus flower, several fish, the very air that blew upon it. Impressed with his protégé’s work, Shizu-san then lowered his sword into the stream and waited patiently.

  ‘It didn’t cut a thing. Not a single leaf was parted; flowers kissed the steel and floated by; fish swam right up to it; the air sang as it gently blew by the blade.’

  ‘So Kunitome-san’s was the better blade,’ interrupted Yamato.

  ‘No! The monk declared Shizu-san the winner. Kunitomesan contested the decision, for his master’s sword had failed to cut anything. The monk then explained. The first sword was by all accounts a fine weapon. However, it was blood-thirsty and evil for it didn’t discriminate as to who or what it cut. “It may just as well be cutting butterflies as severing heads,” the monk had said. Shizu-san’s sword, on the other hand, was by far the finer of the two for it didn’t needlessly cut that which was innocent and undeserving of death. The spirit in his sword demonstrated a benevolent power worthy of a true samurai.

  ‘Because of this, it’s believed that a Kunitome blade, once drawn, must draw blood before it can be returned to its saya, even to the point of forcing its wielder to wound himself or commit suicide.’

  Jack glanced down at his healing thumb, then at the tantō with his blood still stained upon the steel. Perhaps there was some truth in the old man’s warning.

  ‘Mark my words, that tantō is a demon blade. It’s cursed and will breed bloodlust in those who carry it.’

  ‘Old man, are you serving or gossiping?’ demanded a samurai who sat impatiently at a table on the other side of the tea house.

  ‘My apologies,’ replied the proprietor, bowing. ‘I will be with you right now.’

  He got up and retrieved his tray.

  ‘My advice is to lose that tantō in the forest you found it in.’

  The proprietor then bowed and left the three of them to ponder his words. They all gazed at the blade, its awakened spirit seeming to draw them in as if they were caught in a whirlpool.

  ‘What did I tell you?’ said Jack excitedly, breaking the spell. ‘It’s fate. We have to go to Shindo. The tantō comes from the same village that Orochi mentioned. This must mean the ninja came from around there too.’

  ‘Didn’t you hear anything the man just said?’ asked Yamato, his dark brown eyes wide in disbelief at Jack’s jubilant reaction to the news. ‘That knife is cursed.’

  ‘Surely you don’t believe that?’ dismissed Jack, though he wasn’t quite as certain as his bravado made out.

  ‘Yet you believe in fate; that we should go to Shindo.’

  ‘Yes, but this is different,’ Jack argued, cautiously sheathing the tantō and slipping it into the obi around his waist. ‘The knife’s superstition. This is a clear sign we must follow our destiny. We must follow the Way of the Dragon – find where the ninja hides. Isn’t that right, Akiko?’

  Akiko was flattening the folds of her ivory-coloured silk kimono and appeared to be thinking very carefully before answering. Jack had used the very words she’d whispered to him after she’d awoken from her poisoning. Jack just hoped Akiko would still be on his side, despite the obvious danger of such a venture.

  ‘I think we should go,’ agreed Akiko. ‘Masamoto-sama made clear to us that we have to tell him any information we know about Dokugan Ryu. That includes anything we find out about him too. Imagine if we could give Masamoto-sama the location of the ninja’s headquar
ters. We may even get back Jack’s rutter.’

  ‘Why are you suddenly so keen on pursuing this ninja, Akiko?’ Yamato demanded, turning on his cousin. ‘You almost died the last time we agreed to help Jack.’

  ‘More reason for me to want to find the ninja. Besides, weren’t you the one who suggested we should try and trap him in the first place? It was your golden opportunity to get revenge on Dragon Eye for your brother’s murder, a chance to restore the family honour.’

  ‘Yes…’ spluttered Yamato, ‘but… that was before my father found out and dismissed us. He would never forgive me if we tried to capture Dragon Eye ourselves.’

  ‘We’re not attempting to capture him,’ appeased Akiko. ‘We simply need to locate his camp and tell your father.’

  ‘I still think it’s a bad idea. What about the mysterious black ninja who saved Jack? That makes no sense.’ Yamato stared gravely at the two of them. ‘Have either of you thought that the reason we’re discovering these clues is that Dragon Eye wants us to find him? That he’s leading us into a trap?’

  There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as the possible truth sank in. Then Akiko dismissed the idea.

  ‘Ninja don’t just fight samurai. They fight one another too. The black ninja was probably from a rival clan and the green ninja out of their territory. Yamato, you probably turned up just in time to save Jack’s life.’

  Yamato looked unconvinced.

  ‘If we don’t go, what else are we going to do?’ implored Jack. ‘With his dislocated shoulder, Kuma-san said he won’t be fit to travel to Toba for at least another day or so.’

  ‘He’s right,’ agreed Akiko. ‘If we take the horses, we could get to Shindo and back in a day. Jack can ride with me. Kumasan wouldn’t question us about visiting a nearby temple.’

  Yamato remained tight-lipped, turning his attention to the glorious sunset instead. A stillness settled over the tea house as the sun clipped the top of a mountain peak. Golden rays of light fingered into an indigo-blue sky that hung like a silken kimono above the hazy range of mountain ridges and darkening valleys.