Preamble.
As promised before, here is a little side story I wrote for Way of
the Ninjitsu. I guess I was morally obligated to attach the [Darkish]
tag to this post, although in my view it's kinda pointless. After
all, are there actually people out there who would be detracted from
a piece of writing just because of such a tag?
Anyhow, proceed on for
Way of the Ninjitsu.
A Fanfiction by Jason Wong.
Inspired by Ruminko Takahashi's
Ranma 1/2.
Side Story 1. First Blood.
Kneeling cautiously, Kagora checked his blades for the third time.
As it was three minutes ago - the edges were faultless. Silently
cursing the need to wait, he hunkered down further, unobtrusively
looking toward their leader.
Master Tomira was expressionless as usual - her grim countenance
revealing little of her view on what was to come. *Of course, this
assignment is just 'standard routine' for one such as her.*
Not so for the young ninja - fresh out of promotion to the black
bandanna, this was to be his first mission of this kind.
"We feeling alright Kago-chan?"
He never admitted it directly, but that nickname irritated him. And
coming from anyone other than Sariko he might have taken
exception. However, since it just happened to be her the issue
was moot. "I'm fine....just musing."
The girl smiled thinly at that. "More like wetting your pants in
anticipation eh?" This was another thing he'd take from nobody
else save this person.
Looking up to his long time friend, he answered, "That's fine for
you, this isn't your first time."
Sariko's grin faltered a little at that. "If it's any help, just try to
remember - it's only a job." And with that she offered a friendly pat
and moved on. He found it jarring to consider that the bright and
ever cheerful girl he knew had experienced this sort of matter
before. And up till tonight it was a constant reminder of the training
gap between the pair.
Kagora was no stranger to the true work of a ninja - at its
extremely limited resources, the Clan could ill afford the luxury of
allowing young and able teenagers to spend their daily hours in
training - especially one of his particular talents. The War was a
drain on Japan in its entirety - and the Shinkasa was no exception
- with both food and manpower shortages as they were, the House
was at pains just to even function on a daily basis. With the
conscription of most of the healthy males to the war effort, there
was little remaining to service the needs of Shinkasa House at
Yamakaro, let alone it's outlying establishments. Of course the fact
that the Clan took in females as well was helpful in its
maintenance - and part of the reason why more than half of
tonight's group was that particular gender.
And thus at the relatively tender age of fifteen, the ninja trainee
Shinkasa Kagora had been hurriedly promoted up to a black
band, and within the same day inducted into the ranks of the so
called 'island guard' - though with its ranks holding at a pitiful thirty-
four this unit could hardly be called a guard. Working off the
shores of Hokkaido in the neighbouring Honshu island to see to
the needs of those that hired the Clan's services, the Shinkasa
heir had been kept busy for that past month by a near continuous
series of tasks.
But this mission was different. Not the guardian assignments, or
directions to steal this or that - no this was an entirely different
matter.
These group of five were on an assassin hunt.
In this time of disorganisation and chaos it was utterly natural and
expectant of human nature that some would take it upon
themselves to make profit. And it was perhaps equally to be
expected that those attempting to preserve a sense of peace and
justice within Japan would object to such practices. Such officials
had thus employed the services of Clan Shinkasa - the masters
held no support for the government's decidedly harsh penalties for
organised trafficking and black market practices (death), but
money was money and ninjas like everyone else needed to eat.
In the past five days the spy network had uncovered one such
organised criminal business - although to call it such was flattery
(they weren't that organised). Government rules were applied, and
three of the higher leaders were without further notice sentenced
to death. Tonight was to be the first of these.
It was an uncanny thought - to know that within the day you would
emerge either a murderer or the murdered. It was not the idea of
killing another human being that Kagora found so disconcerting -
indeed in his short life he had already killed more people than
most of his compatriots would ever do so in two lives over. No, it
was the concept that this time he would consciously be able to feel
his end of the sai as it was pushed mercilessly through the neck of
the chosen target. As Master Tohiro, his father, had always stated,
*"There is no more a personal battle than a death fight with
blades."*
Maybe it might have been better if he'd taken up archery.
At the single hand gesture from their leader, the ninja almost
jerked into readiness. Their designated roles in the coming task
were all confirmed by hand signals - and with nothing left to triple
check, the band slipped into action.
*********
Matama Jiro absently scratched at a newly acquired insect bite,
wondering how much longer his boss would be in session. Not
that he particularly minded the inaction (even in these harder
times, Mr Kazawa was a generous employer), but it so happened
he had neglected to find an unoccupied toilet preceding this stint
at guard duty.
"Heh, is there a caterpillar munching around inside your pants, or
what? Cross your legs any tighter and you might cut off something
vital." The rear sliding door was closed with a hasty swish, as
Jiro's long time companion stepped forward to replace another
guard. Sato was not what he might have labelled as a friend - their
personality differences and the extensive age gap was too
apparent for that - but two years of working under the same
master had instilled a comradeship of sorts. Indeed Jiro
considered himself more of an elder brother figure if anything -
Sato was only sixteen - brown-eyed, scrawny - a boy by anyone's
estimation, save perhaps for the Imperial army conscription
board.
That last factor was the primary reason why Sato had joined this
pseudo-Yakuza band. Anything was better than fighting on the
front.
"Kazawa-san has been in conference for close to two hours now.
I'm tired, dirty, and yes I need to find a latrine." The long suffering
guard's gruffness was revealed in his tone, as he brushed useless
musings aside.
"Well then, why don't you just knock on his door and ask to be
excused?"
"Hah!" The idea was patently ludicrous. Nobody ever asked
anything of Mr Kazawa. Which was fine by both workers. There
were no illusions as to the rather devious business they were
indirectly attached to, so long as it put ration coupons in their
hands and food on the table. For in Japan today, both items were
a rarity and certainly not a daily availability. "Why don't you ask
him yourself - then he'll be the one to make sure you never piss
again."
Laughing at his own crude humour, Jiro geared himself up for a
friendly exchange of insults. When after several moments, it
seemed that Sato had failed to devise a rejoinder, he turned to
face his companion. "What, all mute already? I'm disappointed.
Sato?"
The boy was staring bewilderedly wide-eyed at the taller man,
looking for the world as if he had something very important to say.
Indeed, it seemed as he opened his mouth to speak, something
profound was to be announced, though it appeared to have caught
half-way in his throat. Stepping forward, Jiro offered a friendly slap
on the back. His hand came away wet.
It was then he saw the blood, gleaming in the dim moonlight -
flowing like an honorary red carpet to the two foot long arrow
protruding proudly from the boy's neck. Staggering in abject
shock, Jiro was caught by a seizure of panic - eyes glancing about
furiously as he drew breath to scream a warning.
It was then that the iron weighted garrotte looped neatly about his
throat.
**********
With a vicious jerk, Master Tomira closed the noose, crushing
throat and tendons. And before the unnamed guardian could so
much as gurgle a blood sprayed cry, she had snapped the
garrotte in a half loop that promptly destroyed the neck.
Letting the now lifeless body slip noiselessly to the damp pathway,
the Assassin Master gestured for her troupe to follow. As he
silently floated past the zone of confrontation, Kagora pointedly
looked away from the mangled corpse. Somebody else would
deal with it. And besides, the role that he had been specifically
selected to perform was coming up.
The young ninja needed no silent communication to understand
his task. Kneeling before the ponderously heavy wooden sliding
door, he seemed to almost lovingly caress the worn surface. Only,
the experienced eyes of the resident master actively detected the
vibrant flow of chi as the Shinkasa heir cut a microscopically thin
line through the raw wood.
With out so much as a whisper, a roughly man sized passage had
been prepared, though the blocking wood left standing in position
to hide its existence. Within minutes a similar cut was completed
a few metres along, through the pine slats which formed the wall of
the meeting hall.
As one, the motley group of five Shinkasa ninjas withdrew their
various weapons, all dyed to the point where even the blades
were painted jet. Following suit, Kagora called off the very
draining technique, and silently pulled his sai. For this mission,
they had been personally honed to a razor sharpness.
Crouching predatorily before the soon to be entryway through the
wall, Master Tomira raised thumb and forefinger in the Clan sign
for preparation.
*Six seconds to mayhem.* Kagora quietly chanted. *Five
seconds*.........*four seconds*........*three seconds*.......
*two*.......*one*.......
And a blur of chaotic organisation, the Shinkasa assassin squad
burst through the weakened wall.
************
Kazawa Manzai jerked in shocked surprise. One moment he had
been casually directing the organisation of his lower factors, and
then suddenly the large meeting room seemed somehow to be
rather overcrowded.
All it took was the momentary flash of nightshade black, and he
shouted a summoning to his bodyguards. In an intense surge of
fear burning through his psyche as his hired protection were
roused, there was a brief instilment of calculating logic. Kazawa,
in foresight to such a possibility had procured his own body of
specialised guardians, who were now surging into the room in a
blur of speed which credited their background. After all, was it not
best to fight fire with its own essence?
************
As soon as she had passed the entryway, Sariko could
immediately identify the prime target of their assault, as he sat at
the head of the long, squat table dominating the hall. Vaulting over
the heads of her companions, she made use of the momentary
confusion to press in for a quick kill.
When seemingly out of nowhere another figure in black interposed
itself before her, she was caught totally unawares. The colouration
of the assailant forced an instant's hesitation lest she unwittingly
strike out at a friend.
That instant very nearly cost her head. It was as the second slash
from a scimitar was reflexively blocked she noticed that unlike the
Shinkasa this particular individual wore a jet face mask hiding all
but the eyes. Filing the myriad of questions arising for a later time,
she unthinkingly returned the attack.
Despite the very present issue of combat in front of herself,
Master Tomira risked a side glance to analyse the unexpected
third party to this raid.
Unexpected was bad - 'unexpected' was what destroyed
meticulous plans, and generated the distinct possibility of failure.
But her group had reacted superbly - striking back with equal
ferocity. The only thing that would cause a retreat would be her
personal command - and she was reluctant to do so until failure
was guaranteed.
Wasting no more energy to thought, she promptly swung her
naginata across, cutting down the ninja assailant in a spray of
crimson blood. The faster she killed the shorter the duration
before they could escape.
***********
The sudden wash of life fluid caught Kagora's attention. And for a
precious second he stood transfixed as red seemed to stain
everything - the first victim of battle still twitching pitifully in a dull
puddle of the stuff.
Only his finely honed motor reflexes saved him from a similar fate.
It was a conscious effort to realign his heightened senses back to
combat, and the almost startling realisation of what was at stake
here. Oh sure, the masters had 'talked' about the key to Ninjitsu -
survival - that to kill before you were killed was the focus. Yes, he
could act out any number of several hundred finishing blows,
whose existence served only for murder. But it was a very different
issue when wood turned to steel, and bruises became fatal
wounds.
And dust turned to blood.
It was then that the definition of his current opponent's scimitar
took on a whole new meaning. He had always known intellectually
that from onset of this mission, any encountered attacker would
intend to actually 'kill' him. But such knowledge was so very hollow
compared to the cold reality of all this......this........blood. And with
this image clear in his mind it became so very important to kill first
before he ended up like........that.
Desperately battle-crazed with adrenaline Kagora punched his
way through the opposing ninja's guard, relying on sheer inertia as
the sai sank hilt deep into the exposed throat. Despite all, he was
only a newly inducted black band, and against a presumably
veteran fighter this was no time to test skills.
Ripping the sullied stiletto thin blade clear, Kagora's eyes darted
cat-like for the next target.
And less than a metre away, Master Tomira caught the choking
corpse, just as her kohai had finished with it. Ignoring the redness
flowing over her bare hands, she pulled the concealing mask free.
Taking one clear look at the visage revealed, the assassin master
immediately dumped the body, calling out to her squad.
"KUNOICHI!! Finish it now!."
Now time critical, the main goal became the assigned targets -
regardless of cost.
***********
Kazawa Manzai, lay under the relative safety offered by the heavy
wooden table. This wasn't how it was supposed to be!
Whimpering in half shock, he reflexively scurried to the far side as
a bloodied torso crashed heavily near the chairs. He didn't care
from whose side the corpse came from - this was not his
business.......a simple small time trafficker of ration coupons and
consumer goods shouldn't have to endure this.
Another of his kunoichi fell - cut across the face with the lethal
point of a sai. And for a moment, the eyes of the murderer met
with his. A boy, barely into mid-teens. And in those eyes, Kazawa
saw his own death.
Clear of enemies for the moment, the unnamed assassin closed
with purposeful steps. Gasping in primal fear, Kazawa scrabbled
frantically out from the other side of the low lying table. He
screamed a cry for more guards......someone...anyone......he had
to live. And as if God-sent another of his precious ninja closed in
on the boy in black from behind.
Joyfully relieved at his miraculous escape, Kazawa wordlessly
blessed the interfering kunoichi. That was his last feeling, before a
garrotte, wielded by a woman adorned with a golden edged
bandanna, found its way about his neck.
************
Before the kunoichi could even bring muscle to bear in a
downward cut, Kagora whirled about - his blade marking a painful
but relatively harmless gash across the woman's chest.
*A woman.*
Discarding the thought, he unthinkingly jammed his last remaining
sai deep into her sternum.
And then cursed the ill played move. Time and time again Master
Tomira had taught him never to target there. Why? Well true to her
predictions, as his enemy collapsed and precious air escaped
bubbling lungs, so too did the muscles and sinew around the fatal
wound close - trapping the blade in an irremovable vice-like grip.
*Well, at least now I know for sure that Master was right.*
He didn't even have the energy to consider the shocking
ruthlessness of that thought. Giving up the blade, he automatically
scrabbled for another.
And came up empty handed. Oh yes, that's right - that was his last
sai.
************
Sariko winced painfully as she once again disturbed her newly
acquired wound with battle movement. The thigh rip burned
continuously - a reminder that she only had maybe minutes left
before she passed out from blood loss. Risking a glance towards
the right, she noted that their leader had downed yet another
opponent. Why didn't Master Tomira call off the attack? At least in
Sariko's judgement, such an ill fated attack should have been
terminated at earliest opportunity.
Well, until retreat was announced there was nought other choice
but to fight on. And the stream of new enemies - thankfully slow -
seemed endless. Picking an unopposed ninja who was apparently
making an attempt to blind side her Kago-chan, she hopped
clumsily to engage.
Bringing the short kodachi to bear, the Shinkasa ninja stabbed for
the lower back - and was forced to abruptly halt the move as the
kunoichi without even so much as glancing behind, hurled a pair of
shuriken. Over extended by the attack, and hampered by the leg
wound, Sariko somehow managed to side step the first of the
spinning discs. But as for the second.........
***********
Kagora's discerning hearing needed only the sound of a familiar
friend's cry to come about into a headlong charge. Sari-chan was
weakly holding her forehead, as blood trickled down her face,
obscuring vision in a haze of red.
And thus she had not a chance to see as the kunoichi's blade
whistled across at neck level.
Reacting without thought, Kagora moved to intercept the blade -
unarmed as he was. All it took was an instant's decision before
his hand descended, and the scimitar was neatly dissected - the
remainder of the weapon still attached flying a clear foot short of
any damage.
Mystified, the assailant brought the useless hilt up to her face.
How in hell had that happened? Not only had she utterly failed to
catch sight of Sariko's saviour, but the kunoichi was to also miss
his second move.
***********
Bringing his wrist back, Kagora employed a two fingered punch to
the neck - a universal move to nearly all styles of Ninjitsu - save
that he had neglected to call down the Catfist.
*Well, at least she's dead.*
And like the thankful clarion of salvation, Tomira's voice barked a
harsh, single worded command. Gently cradling Sariko in his
arms, Kagora sped for the pre-cut exit path.
************
************
# Several hours later... #
Now in the relative comfort of the island guards' communal abode,
Kagora wearily tugged of his black bandanna, inadvertently
twisting sweat soaked hair into almost comical spikes. It was
when he fell heavily upon the sleeping cot, that the recollections of
that last few hours' activities and thoughts returned in a torrential
flood.
Keeling over, the ninja promptly threw up - sullying the recently
scrubbed floor.
Crystal clear memories were very cruel.
Staring uncomprehendingly at his palms, Shinkasa Kagora gently
clawed at invisible visions - mesmerised at the wondrous
complexity of the human hand.
"I feel terrible."
**********
"Why did you tarry so long, Tomira?" That assault cost us heavily
because of your delaying." In truth there were no fatalities, but two
of the ninjas would be rendered bedridden for at least several
precious months.
Eyes as serious as her countenance, the addressed master held
out a bloodied cloth belt to her fellow compatriot. "I needed to
place an identity to our assailants before we left. Recognise this,
Master Samato?"
Without taking the belt, the assassin master could readily see the
simple dyed insignia of a freshly blossoming yew flower. "Clan
Kenzan." He frowned in consideration of the ramifications. "This
does not bode well - do we inform Yamakaro?"
"I think so - although as a rule, inter-Clan relations are kept at a
strictly business level - we cannot know how Kenzan will react
when they learn that a dozen or so of their number
were......eradicated. If they take the matter personally, things could
get, shall we say, sticky?"
"Provided that is we ourselves were actually identified."
She eyed him balefully. "Do we really want to take the risk?"
The assassin master seemed to consider this for a moment. "I
see the point - well then, a message on the matter will be sent on
the morrow."
"Yes, and we hope for diplomacy's sake the Kenzan were unable
to name their enemy tonight."
*************
*************
*************
Author's Notes.
Some people might ask me why I wrote this and what it mean for
the series as a whole - well I'll leave you all to speculate. Now
although I can't say that it was inspiration, the anime film Grave of
the Fireflies which I saw some time ago did have something to do
with this work. How? Well I cannot really answer that question
myself. The style and motifs of that work have little to do with the
themes of this story. However I highly recommend the film though.
Now, with regard to other writings, I am still working my way
through Mage, Scholar and Martial Artist although it seems that it
will still be a very long while before I can start it. Series need plenty
of planning if they are to succeed. In the meantime I will also be
working on Chapter 7 of this series.
So stay around for more, and thank you for reading.
You can find the rest of my works at
http://members.xoom.com/dojohouse
Or e-mail at dojo@ihug.com.au
Generic statement.
Comments and criticism are always welcome (flame me if you
must), but I won't accept any ethical stuff from people who hate
any particular love match ups which may or may not occur in this
series.