Chasing the Secret

by Maya Snow

  “But you were fighting Uncle,” Hana said.

  Tatsuya grinned. He pulled his kimono away from his body and showed us a long slit across the stomach. “He wasn’t quick enough to finish me off. I broke away as soon as I could to come find you.”

  “Thank you, Tatsuya,” Hana said gravely. She picked up his discarded longbow and handed it to him ceremoniously.

  “We should get out of here,” I said, sheathing my sword and hurrying to retrieve Master Goku’s urn from the long grass. “As soon as Uncle hears we’ve escaped, he’ll send more troops after us.”

  “And we have to hurry if we’re to get to Mount Fuji before sunset tomorrow,” Hana said.

  “Mount Fuji? Why do you want to go there?” Tatsuya said, looking at us expectantly.

  “Our mother has been sending letters to Master Goku,” Hana began. “We didn’t tell you before because we thought it would be safer if no one else knew about it.”

  Tatsuya frowned. “But…I could have helped.”

  Hana stepped forward and touched Tatsuya lightly on the arm. “We know that now,” she said, smiling gently.

  Tatsuya looked into Hana’s eyes, and I knew he understood. It would be sad to say good-bye to such a true friend.

  “Tell me about the letters,” Tatsuya said.

  “Seven scrolls came in the weeks before the tournament,” Hana explained. “But Master Goku kept them from us. He wanted us to stay at the dojo where he could keep us safe.”

  Quickly she told him how another letter had arrived that morning and that Uncle had learned Mother wanted to meet us in the temple at the foot of Mount Fuji. Tatsuya listened closely.

  “Uncle Hidehira dispatched soldiers immediately,” Hana went on. “He’s setting a trap to capture Mother and Moriyasu.”

  Tatsuya looked back and forth between us. “And you’re going there to warn them.”

  “We have to get to Mount Fuji.” I glanced up at the sun, burning high above. “We have the rest of today, and then tomorrow until sundown.”

  “A day and a half for traveling,” Hana said slowly. “Is that enough?”

  “Maybe,” Tatsuya said. He frowned thoughtfully, as if calculating the journey in his head. “At a guess, I’d say Mount Fuji is two days away. But if we hurry, we can make it in time.”

  “We?” I stared at him, my heart suddenly as light as air. “You’re coming with us?”

  “There’s nothing for me back at the dojo now,” Tatsuya said. He clenched his fist and held it out in front of him. “And I’ve made a pledge, remember? We’re in this together. Loyal friends!”

  Hana and I exchanged a glance. Then we clenched our own fists and placed them over Tatsuya’s, one on top of the other. “Loyal friends!” we chorused.

  Quickly we gathered up weapons from the dead and unconscious samurai. One samurai had an empty leather rice pouch, which I relieved him of. Instead of carrying the heavy urn, I carefully emptied its contents into the thick, waterproof pouch and tied it to my sash. I knew Goku would not be offended by the action. I would take him somewhere he could find peace.

  Tatsuya watched me, his face grave. “You did the right thing taking the urn,” he said quietly. “Master Goku deserves a sacred resting place.”

  I drew a deep breath. “I thought we might find somewhere when we reach Mount Fuji.”

  “That’s a wonderful idea, Kimi,” Hana said warmly. “Father always said it was one of the most beautiful, peaceful places on earth.”

  “Mount Fuji was special to Master Goku, too,” Tatsuya said, kneeling over one of the dead soldiers. He was unstrapping a quiver of arrows from the man’s back, but he paused and glanced up at Hana. “He was born near there. Sometimes during lessons he would refer to the mountain as the soul of the kingdom.”

  “Then it’s right that it should be his final resting place,” Hana replied. “We should take his ashes to the temple where we’re to meet Mother.”

  I drew a deep breath. “Master Goku’s spirit will draw strength from being in such a sacred and special resting place.”

  Tatsuya fastened his quiver of arrows to his sash.

  We left the glade in single file, Tatsuya taking the lead as we hurried along the pathway through the forest. Hana was ahead of me. She’d left her hair down, loose to her waist, its blue-black sheen the color of a raven’s wing. I had decided to keep mine up like a boy. It wasn’t so important to maintain our disguises now because Uncle Hidehira knew who we were, but I found it more comfortable to keep my hair out of my eyes.

  Tatsuya set a good pace. The forest closed in around us, shadowy and mysterious. The only sound was the rustling of grass against our ankles. Every so often we would stop and strain our ears for the creak of leather armor, the rattle of weapons following us. But there was nothing to hear except the distant shriek and chatter of a monkey, the buzz of insects, and the occasional shrill cry of a bird.

  Soon we broke out of the forest and found ourselves on a hillside overlooking a wide green valley. Farmers in flat straw hats paddled through the shallow water that flooded the rice fields. In the distance an enormous snow-capped mountain rose up from a crest of pine trees, its foothills wreathed in lilac shadows.

  “Mount Fuji,” Hana said in a breathless voice.

  Drinking in the sight, I felt anticipation whisper through my soul. This time tomorrow, we would be at the temple, reunited with Mother. Smiling, I put my hand to my waist and touched the hilt of Moriyasu’s little bamboo bokken.

  “Your uncle is sure to send out samurai to hunt us down,” Tatsuya said, eyeing the farmers down in the fields. “It would be safer for these people if they didn’t see us.”

  Hana nodded. “We’ll keep off the main paths.”

  We cut around the edge of the valley, keeping Mount Fuji ahead of us, fixed in our sights like a talisman. Time passed and the sun slid sideways across the sky, its golden light shimmering on the flooded rice fields.

  We picked our way along a narrow track that cut across the hillside. As I followed the others, I glanced out across the peaceful landscape, trying to imagine war bands riding hard across the horizon with the sun glinting from their helmets. What would the country look like several moons from now? The people would be starving, all their rice seized to feed the army. There would only be girl children left to tend the meager crops because the boys would be rounded up and sent to train as warriors and foot soldiers.

  Suddenly I heard a rustling sound away to my left. Someone was coming toward us through the bamboo!

  “Get off the path,” I whispered to the others.

  We dived into the undergrowth on the other side of the path, pressing ourselves flat to the ground. The rustling grew louder. I exchanged a panicked look with the others. Was this the advance guard of a foot patrol of soldiers sent by Uncle Hidehira to scour the countryside? My heart was pounding so loudly I was sure that whoever was coming must be able to hear it.

  Abruptly a footstep crunched onto the narrow track, and then another. I heard someone take a wheezing breath.

  I peered through the undergrowth. If someone was coming for us, I wanted to see them first. Beside me, Hana reached for the hilt of her sword. Tatsuya was tense and ready.

  The footsteps crunched closer and closer…and an old woodcutter came into view. He had a lined, leathery face. A basket of pine logs was strapped to his shoulders.

  A woodcutter! Relief washed over me.

  We let the old man make his way along the path, and waited until he had disappeared from view before we scrambled to our feet and brushed ourselves down.

  “Well done, Kimi,” Hana said to me.

  “Your ears are sharp,” Tatsuya said approvingly. “No one’s going to sneak up on us and get away with it.”

  I grinned and we went on our way, pressing along the track that wound toward Mount Fuji.

  Later we passed a hot spring, bubbling up out of the ground and filling the air with clouds of steam. We stopped for a moment and sat on a rock to rest our
feet while we shared our black bean and rice cakes. Looking around, I noticed that the ground had become steadily inclined and rockier.

  After we had eaten, I tilted my face up toward the sun, enjoying the feel of its warmth on my face. So much had happened today. Exhausted, I tried to draw a veil over my mind and let the peace of the afternoon envelop me.

  Tatsuya crouched some distance away, his bow held loosely in his hands as he gazed around at the rocks and sparse trees that surrounded the hot spring. Beyond him to the north was the sapphire gleam of one of the Fujigoko, the collection of five lakes at the foot of Mount Fuji.

  Hana went to kneel by the edge of the hot spring and trailed her fingers in the warm water. “It’s like a bath,” she said, smiling. “The water must have come from deep underground, heated up by the fiery volcano beneath Mount Fuji….”

  Her voice trailed off as we both noticed that Tatsuya was staring into the distance, eyes narrowed and body tense.

  “What is it?” I asked, dropping my voice to a whisper.

  “There’s someone watching us,” Tatsuya murmured. He slid his gaze away, scanning the hillside.

  My stomach tightened. “Where?” I asked, glancing around.

  “Over there.” He jerked his chin in the direction of a flat rock. “Don’t make it obvious that you’re looking. It would be better if whoever it is thought we hadn’t spotted him.”

  Keeping my head still, I swiveled my eyes to the left, following the line of our pathway that curved and twisted through the foothills of Mount Fuji. Far ahead, I could just make out a small dark shape, half-hidden behind a rock. My heart began to hammer.

  “Do you think it’s one of Uncle’s men?” I asked.

  I noticed that Tatsuya had reached down and was slipping an arrow from where he’d fastened them to his sash. “I think it’s someone far worse than Lord Hidehira’s men,” he said quietly.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  Tatsuya didn’t answer at first, but instead let his longbow slip from his shoulder. Stealthily he fitted his arrow to the string.

  When he spoke his next word, a shard of icy fear plunged into my soul.

  “Ninja!”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Ninja were the one thing my father feared.

  Unlike a samurai, who was bound by the honor of the bushi code, a ninja obeyed his own rules. Stealthy and cunning, he could creep up to a man and kill him instantly or slay him from a distance with a deadly poisoned dart. He was a murderer for hire.

  “What should we do?” Hana asked Tatsuya.

  “Let’s go back and find another pathway.” Tatsuya began to turn around, but I stopped him.

  “We haven’t got time,” I said. “We must be at the temple by sundown tomorrow.”

  Tatsuya’s jaw tightened. “But we could be walking into a trap.”

  Hana looked back and forth between us, considering. “There are three of us and only one of him.”

  Tatsuya glanced at the distant figure half-hidden behind the rock. “There may be only one of him,” he said. “But he’ll have the strength of three men and the skill of ten.”

  “It could take hours to find another path. We have to go this way,” I insisted.

  “All right,” Tatsuya said reluctantly. “But we must be prepared for anything.”

  We made our way cautiously along the steep path. There was only enough room for us to go single file. Tatsuya went first, holding his longbow hidden behind him. I followed him, my hand on the scabbard of my sword, and Hana brought up the rear, trying to look casual and unconcerned.

  Up ahead, the ninja stayed motionless. The thought of him watching us sent a chill along my spine.

  The ninja were a secretive organization, mysterious shadow warriors, highly skilled and ruthless. My brother Harumasa had been fascinated by the stories and legends that people told about them: They could walk through walls, fade into the shadows, even fly.

  Harumasa had told me many legends about the first ninja, but my favorite story was that of a corrupt monk who had murdered a man in cold blood, and the man’s young son who had sworn revenge. The son waited and watched his enemy for many moons. One night, when the monk was sleeping beside a burning lantern, moths swarmed in through the open bamboo screen and clung to the lantern, plunging the room into darkness. The young ninja slipped inside, used the evil monk’s own sword to kill him, and then sneaked away, unseen. As the boy grew into a man, he called his growing knowledge ninjutsu, meaning “the art of patience.” The secrets of the shadow warriors were passed down through the generations, from father to son, ninja to ninja.

  “He’s not moving,” Hana whispered. Her gaze was fixed on the flat rock, where the shadow warrior’s head was just visible.

  “Perhaps he realizes we’ve seen him?” Tatsuya suggested. “He knows there’s no point trying to hide.”

  I wondered how we could hope to defeat a warrior with the strength of ten men—one who was so confident that he saw no need to hide himself. I narrowed my eyes, sizing up the rock. Would the ninja leap on us from above, sword in hand? Or would he simply put a straw to his mouth and send a series of poisoned darts flying through the air?

  We inched closer, and I saw the shadow take shape. His clothes were bumpy, almost a green color. One more step and I laughed out loud. The shape behind the rock was no ninja. It was a bush, small and round, rooted into the rock!

  “Kimi!” Tatsuya motioned for me to be quiet, but it only made me laugh harder.

  Tatsuya shot me a furious look. “This is no time for laughing, Kimi,” he whispered. “You don’t understand how ruthless ninja are.”

  I grinned back at him. “Well, if that’s true, it will be the first time I have met a ruthless thorn bush.”

  “A what?” Tatsuya stopped dead, hand on the hilt of his sword and an arrow still fitted to his bow. He frowned and peered ahead, then muttered a curse. “It is a thorn bush.”

  “Watch out,” I teased, nudging him with my elbow. “Some of those thorn bushes have the skill of ten men, you know.”

  Hana giggled. Angrily Tatsuya disarmed his bow and rammed the arrow back into his sash. “So I made a mistake,” he muttered. “Better to be cautious than dead.”

  “You were never this jumpy back at the dojo,” I said.

  “He never needed to be,” Hana said, suddenly serious. “We’ve all got reason to be on our guard, Kimi. Uncle Hidehira wants us captured, and he wouldn’t hesitate to send a whole army after us.”

  Hana’s words sobered me immediately. “You’re right,” I said, quickly scanning the horizon. “We do need to be on our guard. Day and night. If we see anything suspicious, we tell one another.” I reached out and briefly touched Tatsuya’s hand. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have made fun of you.”

  “I know,” Tatsuya replied. “And I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t be so jumpy.”

  After we had passed the ninja bush, the pathway began to level out a little, taking us beneath pine trees and sturdy maples. The sun slid lower in the sky and light began to fade.

  “Do you think we should try to find somewhere to sleep soon?” Hana asked.

  “I thought I saw a plume of smoke up ahead,” Tatsuya said. “If it’s a village, then we might be able to find shelter there.”

  As twilight began to deepen, we came to a small meadow where we stopped for a moment to watch fireflies dancing, tiny pinpoints of light against the deep blue sky.

  “Do you remember, Hana,” I murmured, “how Mother used to say that she liked to believe fireflies were kami spirits?”

  Hana nodded, her face sad. “She said we should not weep for the dead because they were happy with the Buddha, and they showed us this by dancing across the sky.”

  I felt the weight of Master Goku’s ashes in the bundle on my sash. Soon he would be with the Buddha. We would take him to the temple at the foot of Mount Fuji, and our teacher would find eternal peace.

  Tatsuya murmured a prayer for Master Goku and for
Mr. Choji. Hana and I joined in, our low voices drifting away through the trees. As we turned and left the meadow behind, I offered up to the heavens a silent prayer for my father and older brothers, too.

  We walked on, and soon a light spring rain began to fall, soaking through our clothes. I was losing track of time. The pathway we were following became muddy, and our sandals slipped and slid. The hems of my long hakama trousers stuck to my ankles as the fabric absorbed the rain. Our kimonos, which had been so neat and white for Master Goku’s funeral that morning, were streaked with dirt.

  “I hope we find shelter soon,” Hana said, shivering.

  As darkness settled around us, we came to the village Tatsuya had seen earlier. The path widened into a single packed-earth road where a group of wooden huts huddled together around a well. Thick smoke rose from holes in the steep thatched rooftops. I guessed that the rain must have driven everyone indoors, because the place seemed deserted.

  One of the huts was slightly larger than the others, with a lean-to stable at the back. Flickering candlelight spilled out from behind a filthy bamboo screen, and there was a sudden burst of raucous laughter.

  “That must be the village inn,” Tatsuya said, using his cuff to wipe rain from his face. “Maybe we can go in for a little while and get dry.”

  Hana hung back, looking doubtful. “I’ve never been to a place like this before,” she said in a low, anxious voice.

  “It’ll be all right,” Tatsuya said to Hana. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

  Then Tatsuya pushed a heavy curtain aside and we stepped inside the inn to a small room lit by a couple of glowing lanterns. It was perhaps the size of six tatami mats. Some customers sat on cushions by the walls while a few thin, gray-haired old men were grouped around a smoking charcoal brazier. Beside it an enormous soup pot hung from an iron hook.

  An innkeeper wearing a grubby apron tied over his kimono was pouring sake rice wine into a bowl for one of the old men. He glanced up as we entered, his round face splitting into a yellow-toothed grin.