Trying not to let his fear get out of hand, he took hold of the small bundle Miko handed up to him. She rose and hung a cord around his neck, which was attached to a long bamboo container. He didn’t look at her, his gaze glued to the armored figure who waited for him.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped up to join his lord. His ring of guards shifted with him, leaving the geisha behind, like the tide leaving the shore. He followed Asaka down the ladder and across the deck to the side of the ship. The skiff was still attached there, waiting for them.
“Sit there,” Asaka said.
He stared at the latter in surprise as the samurai pointed to the bottom of the boat rather than to one of the seats. Doing as he’d been told, he climbed down into the waiting craft. Asaka followed him, taking the seat in front of his post. Two others scrambled in behind them.
Toshi tried hard not to gawk at the armored knees before him as it dawned on him Asaka was using the boat to protect him. He felt bumps cover his arms as he realized the threat of the ninja was still very real.
A deadly, almost unstoppable threat when alive, how much more daunting would the assassin be now that he had returned from death. Only the fact they could travel faster than he could might hinder him at all. Toshi tried not to dwell on the danger.
The skiff was unhooked from the glowing ship and aimed toward shore. Toshi stared out over the dark water, trying to spot the house he’d seen the light in earlier that evening. He wondered if the occupants had seen the glowing ship, and, if so, what they’d thought of it. Would he have the chance to meet some living, breathing people again before his task was through?
It wasn’t long before the bottom of the boat scraped sand. Mitsuo and the other guard jumped into the salty water and pushed the boat up onto the beach. The samurai bid Toshi to stand only after they’d come to a complete stop.
Three men surrounded him as he got out. Once they’d stood there for several minutes checking out the landscape, Asaka motioned the other two back to the skiff. Without a word, Mitsuo and the other crewman pushed the boat back into the water, got in it and rowed away. Surprised, Toshi watched them for a moment as they headed back toward the ship. He felt cold in the warm night.
“Boy.”
“Hai!” He turned to face Asaka, a touch of fear staining his voice. The samurai reached into his armor and withdrew the piece of paper he’d worked up on the ship. He extended it out.
“There isn’t much time, so listen well. This paper contains a rough sketch of the route you must take once it has become bright enough for you to travel.” Asaka pointed to the trees behind him. “You will enter through here and then move north. The paper will show you what markers you need to look for on the way.”
Toshi unfolded the paper but couldn’t see much of what it contained in the dark.
“When you reach the temple grounds, you’re to search for a black teakettle.”
“A teakettle?” He bit his lip, realizing he’d asked the question out loud. He saw the samurai’s eyes flare for a moment, but that was the only acknowledgment of his outburst.
“The kettle is emblazoned on one side with a golden sun. When you find it, remain within the confines of the temple grounds until we come to retrieve you at nightfall. Do you understand?”
He could feel the samurai’s stare boring into his face. “Yes, Asaka-sama.”
The samurai nodded and then walked to the water. “Remember, do not leave the temple grounds until we have arrived and called for you. You will be safe as long as you remain within its walls.”
He followed Asaka to the water’s edge feeling nervous. He had to look for a kettle? He needed to stay within the grounds? And what was it they couldn’t deal with that they thought he could? He didn’t understand any of it at all!
The samurai stepped into the water and headed out away from the shore. Toshi lost sight of him as he continued out into the fading darkness. He couldn’t help but stare at the lapping waves until long after the samurai had gone beneath them. He jumped as Asaka’s voice whispered toward him one last time.
“Tread lightly and stay sharp, Toshiro.”
He stared into the darkness, bothered by the samurai’s words. Shaking his head to try and dispel the unwelcomed feelings of fear and foreboding, he watched the glowing ship as it sank out of sight. Once it had gone, he proceeded up along the sandy beach and then sat down facing east. His brow was troubled as he awaited the dawn, his breakfast sitting like rocks in his stomach. He tried not to think about what was to come, even as his mind boggled over what he was being sent to retrieve.
The sky lightened, heralding the coming of the sun. The darkness was dispeled by spreading pinks with hints of oranges and reds. It’d been so long since he’d seen the dawn—a sight that had previously been so common he’d taken it for granted. He sent a prayer of thanks to the gods as the sun crested the horizon. His skin tingled in anticipation of its freely given warmth. The scent of the sea mixed with that of the growing vegetation not far up the beach proclaiming he was once again among the living. Despite his worries, he watched a crab as it was swept out onto the beach. The crab ran from the shoreline, moving sideways; its small eyes never wavering from Toshi’s form.
He waited until the sun was free of the horizon before he opened the map the samurai had given him. To his amazement, he found that Asaka had gone to a great deal of trouble in making it. Not only had he provided plenty of markers by which Toshi could make his way, but he had approximated the distance between each one of them as well.
After studying the map for a couple of minutes, he folded it and slipped it inside the small bundle containing his lunch. Getting up, he dusted the sand from the back of his pants. He took one long, last look around the beach and then made his way toward the line of trees to the north.
Palm trees flourished next to tall pines and clumps of bamboo, making the deepening forest look like a hodgepodge garden. He stared hard at the palms, not used to seeing them next to these other plants he knew so well.
The day warmed with the humidity, and with it grew the buzzing of insects. He kept his gaze moving from place to place, slapping at the bugs when they drew near. His fear and uncertainty about his task abated somewhat as he was distracted by the unfamiliar sounds and smells surrounding him. He was a city boy, born and raised; and the island forest had a feel of magic to it, like those the heroes encountered in the old tales. Those forests had always been full of spirits and demons. He made sure to tread carefully and with respect.
By the time he found the old road as marked on the map, a thin layer of perspiration stood on his brow.
He glanced upward and looked at the clear blue sky showing through the break in the trees. Stepping into a bright ray of sunshine, he let it warm his skin, though he already felt hot. He stood for a short while, enjoying it despite the humidity. He was aware of how not too long ago he had feared he would never feel the sun’s touch again.
Moving out of the light into the cooler shadow of a tree, he brought up his bamboo container to his lips.
The warm water felt good as it dribbled down his throat. Once he’d finished, he looked up and down the road and wiped his mouth dry. From the weeds growing in the middle of it, he doubted the road was often traveled.
Checking the map again, he turned to the right. After a few steps, he stopped, suddenly tempted to go the other way. If the road was basically straight, as it seemed to be, there was a chance it would lead him to the house he’d seen last night from the ship. Perhaps it was even part of a village. He could join the living again. Perhaps he could even find help there and return home.
His temptation soon melted to nothing. The others would find him. There was nowhere he could hide from them. But, in the end, that realization wasn’t all that kept him from trying. Asaka, though he’d not said so directly, had given him a duty, one that was his sole responsibility to complete. He might not be samurai, but he still had honor. He’d been given a task by his present lord, and he would com
plete it.
Surely then they’d send him home. Then he would be free.
Not looking back, he headed east. He made better time on the road than he had in the trees. The next marker on the map was a tree that was split in two. He had no trouble finding it. It stood on the right, dead and bent. Lightning had hit the once-majestic trunk and split it in two. In doing so, it had killed the tree—its path ended forever. He hoped this wasn’t an omen of his own future.
The marker following the tree was supposed to be a small roadside shrine. He almost walked past it.
Most of the small, ancient structure lay hidden behind a large clump of grass.
The wooden shrine was in bad need of repair. Toshi brought out his wrapped lunch and looked at what lay inside. Tearing off a small piece of his fish and another off one of his rice cakes, he reverently placed both within the shrine as an offering to the island’s spirits. Clapping his hands together three times, he bowed his head in prayer and begged them to please tolerate his presence there and, if possible, extend to him their protection while he was there. He hoped they were listening.
Looking again at his map, he pushed his way through the tall grass and got behind the shrine and the large bush growing there. Orienting northwards, he was able to find a dirt path on the other side that was almost completely overgrown. Hoping it was the right way, he started off in the direction indicated by the map.
The path split three ways several lengths ahead, but the map indicated he should remain on the central one. An alteration in how the path was drawn told him to expect it to change, but he wasn’t sure how.
He’d gone only a short distance before the way became clearer, and he could see parts of a small lane.
Its state varied widely as he went on, at times merely covered by short weeds while at others it was so overgrown he was forced to beat his way through.
Gradually, the lane sloped upwards until the grade became rather steep. Wiping away the sweat running down his face, he stopped and took a long swallow of water from the bamboo canteen. He wondered how much longer his climb was going to be—the fact the lane went up so steeply hadn’t been a feature Asaka had been able to incorporate on the quick map. He’d already passed a couple of broken statues that had been used as markers for him. With a critical eye, he looked around him but could find no evidence anyone had been through the area in some time. If not for the markers on the map proving they’d been this way, he would have sworn no one had come through there in years. He shivered as he realized he was probably the first living being to travel this way in a long time.
Taking one more large swallow of water, he capped the canteen before going on. With a deep sigh, he held his boken tightly and beat at the vegetation blocking his way. His next marker looked to be a wide set of stone steps. He was beginning to think getting to them and then the temple would take forever when the wall of plants gave way to a clear path. He stopped, breathing heavily, and stared in surprise, as the steps he’d been looking for lay before him.
Smiling with relief, he wiped his forehead with a sweatstained sleeve and started upwards.
Though he’d hoped to catch a glimpse of where he was going as he ascended the broad stone steps, he found he could see nothing past the drooping limbs of the low-hanging trees that were trying to make the stairs their own. Feeling his exertions catching up to him, he forced himself to hurry that much faster, eager to see the place the samurai had yearned so long to find.
The trees thinned as he climbed higher, giving him a partial view of the sky. The stairs narrowed and eventually stopped before a cobbled walkway. Looking down the walk, he could make out the battered remains of two white walls. Between them were the ruins of a once-formidable pair of doors.
His blood racing with curiosity and excitement, Toshi tread lightly down the walkway. As he came closer, he saw the beaten walls were heavily covered with ivy. Flashes of dark color showed on the walls in the places the ivy hadn’t yet grown over. One of the doors lay splintered and rotting on the walk. The other still hung crookedly on its hinges. It gave the impression that the softest of breezes would make it fall.
As he came closer still, he wondered at the almost too-regular spacing of the broken tops of the walls.
The door still standing had dents all over its surface and spoke of an occurrence he couldn’t quite place.
He slowed, his hand on the hilt of his boken, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling. Something wasn’t right. The place was old, that was obvious; but that wasn’t it. There was just … something…
As he reached the fallen door, he gave it a wide berth, gaping at it, part of him half-expecting it to move.
Dark stains covered the ground around the entrance. He did his best not to step on any of them. He innately knew those stains weren’t natural. Whatever had been spilt there shouldn’t have been able to withstand the years of rain and wear.
He turned around, sure someone was behind him. There was no one. Still staring the way he had come, he took a step back and tripped. Catching himself before he could fall, he looked down, berating himself for being a fool.
Metal glinted at him from the ground, where an old spear lay partially exposed in the dirt. A broken shaft lay close by, also partially buried. He stared at the broken weapon and then stepped away from it. His palms were moist, making his boken feel slippery. His breathing echoed in his ears, and he could smell his fear as it mixed with the scent of his sweat. He didn’t want to think about what it appeared had happened in this place.
He stood beside the still-hinged door and found his gaze involuntarily drawn toward it. Its surface was pitted and rotting and looked to be filled with gouges that had softened over time. Dark words looked to have been hastily scribbled on its surface, but were no longer legible.
A loud squeak made him jump away from the door. Looking for the source of the sound, he found a pair of antagonistic, beady eyes staring at him from a clump of ivy on the wall. The rat hissed at him, coming out into the light. Toshi took a step back as he noticed the white-and-yellow object it held protectively in its paws. He’d been surrounded by skeletons for too long not to recognize the human bone for what it was.
His mouth grew dry, and suddenly it seemed he could see pieces of yellowed bones gleaming all around him. His eyes grew wide as he was overcome by the certainty the bones would soon start reaching toward each other to form a monster who would tear him limb from limb.
He closed his eyes and shook his head from side to side, trying to dispel his building fear. The things he had seen weren’t moving. Chances were they weren’t even the remains of the dead. It was daytime. He was safe. Demons of bone wouldn’t dare to venture out to feel the sun’s caress.
Opening his eyes, he forced himself to move. The rat hissed at him again before scurrying out of reach.
He ignored it, trying only to think about his need to find the kettle before sunset. The others would come for him then, and he would be safe. He trembled at the thought of having to wait for them after dark in this dead, unknown place.
Avoiding everything but normal ground, he hurried through the entrance into the temple grounds. He stopped just inside and took a long look at the area that would comprise his search.
The courtyard was large with a small, covered well situated in the center . Beyond lay what at one time might have been well-kept gardens. Now, they were wild, overgrown and infested with weeds. Ivy and fungus covered much of the worn and broken statues standing at the garden’s edge.
A pebbled path, missing many of its stones, wound through the overgrown garden to a large wooden building. Its once-graceful, arching awnings had been chopped off at three of its four corners. Three smaller buildings sat around the larger one. One of them was an agonized ruin, the ravages of an uncontrolled fire still obvious after all this time. Though Asaka had told him he was going to a temple, he was somewhat surprised to find it really was. The fallen and broken statues of the welcoming spirits looked angry and forlorn. All s
igns of the temple’s name or which of the kami it regarded with the greatest esteem had been crossed off or destroyed.
Everywhere he looked, he could see the remains of more of the dark writing he had seen at the gate. He made a word out here or there, but most of it was still illegible. Yellowed paper strips in the shape of lightning bolts hung everywhere to ward off evil spirits. Bumps crawled up his arms as it struck him those were in better condition than they ever should have been.
He tried his best not to think about the violence that had surely occurred here in the past. He kept his guard up as he trekked across the courtyard to the small well. Not sure of who or what might still inhabit the grounds, he wanted to wash his hands and feet in the normal ritual conducted before entering a temple. He wanted to make sure he did absolutely nothing to anger the spirits that surely hung about the forsaken place.
Reaching the well, he found there was no way for him to bring up the water, the line and bucket gone.
Knowing spirits didn’t normally care for excuses, he used some of his drinking water to wash his hands.
He shook them dry, not wanting to soil them again by drying them on his sweatstained clothes.
His gaze rose to center on the large, open entry into the main building. With a small sigh, he started toward it, his sandals occasionally making crunching sounds on the pebbles still remaining on the path. He cringed at the noise as it echoed loudly in the otherwise unbroken silence.
Though the sun was high in the sky, none of its rays shone in through the entry to give him a hint of what lay inside. Hesitating at the first of the steps leading up to the main building, he forced his eyes away from its gaping darkness and made himself pay attention to the aged stairs.
Carefully treading on each step, he hissed every time one of them creaked. Eventually, he reached the top without mishap and stepped onto the temple’s wide porch. Glancing around, he noticed a number of jagged holes in its planks and dark telltale stains. Two beady eyes popped up through one of the holes and stared curiously at him. He tried to ignore the insistent prickling on the back of his neck. Disregarding his unwanted visitor, he walked cautiously to the dark entryway.
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