Welcome to the Family

Welcome to the Family
Kitami mountains, Mount Teshio
Weak evening light filtered through the trees flashing molten gold and fire in pools of water from the heavy downpour that afternoon. Damp air was rich with the scent of sweet mud and rain beaten flowers and livening with twilight bird calls. Under a cascading moon white rhododendron bush heavy with water Daisuke lie curled like a dog by a fire listening to the soothing drip of water on his green roof. He needed to leave his hiding place soon. He should have left already but each time he decided to get up fear made his arms weak and his stomach churn. The older warriors had told him twice over that some jittery feelings were natural but this wasn’t the simple anxiety he felt when sparring with experienced warriors in front of everyone. This was knee shaking, mouth drying, vomit imminent fear he hadn’t known before. He curled himself tighter and pressed his cheek into the cool soil and closed his eyes praying the mountain’s peace would seep into him like the water did through his obi.

Footsteps ghosted through the wet underbrush. Daisuke didn’t bother opening his eyes and waited to hear if the feet belonged to friend or foe. He had left home without his shinobikatana and now he felt naked without the short bladed sword. A distinctive crow call followed by Harubi’s amused sing-song voice, “Dai-suke. I know you’re here some-where.” Eased Daisuke’s nerves but he didn’t move. Harubi knew where he was, he was giving his student a chance to give up. The quiet steps paused at the flowering bush and he tapped on the leaves shedding a waterfall of cold raindrops. Daisuke threw a clod of dirt through his screen of foliage and the older man laughed, “Come along little warrior, the jonin are looking for you.” He shook the bush again and Daisuke’s stomach knotted.

“Why are you hiding out here, again? And why do you always hide in the same place?” Harubi asked when he was free of his perfumed shelter. Harubi was eight generations older than him. Silver hair speckled Harubi’s cropped black hair and crows’ feet from years of laughter flared out from his fawn brown eyes. Daisuke scanned the darkening woods and avoided the questions.

“When am I leaving?” his voice didn’t quaver but his mouth was still dry. Harubi raised an eyebrow, too old and experienced with young warriors to be thrown off the trail. He fell into step beside Daisuke, “I’ve told you a hundred times in just the last moon that it’s natural to be nervous about your first assignment, why don’t you believe me?”

“I do.” Daisuke mumbled. Harubi couldn’t know how frightened Daisuke was of his first unaccompanied assignment, even though the genin was his friend and teacher. Genin were older and experienced warriors who, between assignments, trained new generations. Every warrior in the Teshio clan carried the honor of those before them. It would shame every warrior in the clan if any knew how weak his knees were. Harubi had been one of three genin for his generation and Daisuke’s clumsiness with distance weapons meant he had spent much more time with him than any other.

Higher up the mountain the lush greenery thinned and the air cooled. The Teshio stronghold was made from surrounding stones and timber. It blended into the lichen stones and wispy mountain pine landscape. Lazy spirals of smoke from supper fires drifted into the bruise colored sky. As soon as even the faintest stars were shining it would be time for him to leave.

“You need to dress quickly.” Harubi told him, echoing his thoughts. Daisuke tried to swallow the sour taste in his mouth.

“Change and then speak to the jonin. They won’t be as coarse if they see you are ready for your task.” Harubi advised. Daisuke nodded and once they were inside silvered timber walls he bowed to Harubi and fled to his room.

He shared a room with three other apprentices but they were already out training with the genin. Daisuke was oldest by six moons which meant he was the first to reach initiation. He stared at the sparse room as if he’d never been there before. Latticed rice paper walls were checkered with black and gray shadows. Tatami mats neatly rolled and set aside, clothes folded with crisp lines on wooden shelves along one wall. But a stray tabi lay errant a few feet from the neat line under the shelves. Kinship with the shoe blossomed in him for he was just as displaced among the ranks of genin. The shoe comforted him as well. In the morning, when his roommates returned, someone would put it in line. “Thank you, tabi.” He whispered.

He didn’t want to rush through changing, the eldest shinobi, the jonin, would not have faith in him if he appeared unkempt as a first year apprentice. They could re-assign his task to someone else. Daisuke would return, disgraced, to the ranks of apprentices for another twelve moons. The shinobi shozoku was difficult enough to put on in the light, his dawdling left him to dress in darkness. The trousers were easy enough as they only tied at the ankles. The unique knotted crisscross pattern around his calves made the tabi more difficult. The jacket was a mess. The overlapping lapels didn’t sit right and every time he tried to put his arm through the short sleeve he ended up sticking his hand in a pocket. When that was sorted and tucked in there were the protective arm and hand sleeves. It felt like two days passed before he was comfortable enough in his appearance to leave. Halfway down the hall he remembered his face concealing scarf and darted back to grab it.

The jonin were mythical among apprentices. The six of them ran the Teshio clan with the omniscience of the gods. Spies reported day-to-day activities of the clan and successes, or occasional failures, of jobs. The actual jonin were never seen outside of the Chamber though. They were the oldest and wisest of the clan and decided what assignments would be undertaken based on the clan’s moral obligations. Daisuke had never seen a jonin but there were stories of their shiny basalt eyes, eyes that could stare through warriors. Their spirit animals that prowled through the room scenting for weakness in warriors and others the genin told the youngest apprentices when they didn’t obey.

What if, though, they could see through warriors, see their weakness? They would never send him. They would execute him for his cowardice. His knees trembled but the loose and heavy cotton of the shozoku hid the signs. What it couldn’t hide was his heart. He could hear the beats galloping along the halls announcing his presence. None of the warriors he passed took notice of the frantic stead passing them.

Two monolithic shinobi stood guard at the Chamber doors. They held no visible weapons but should some fool launch an attack the safest place would be with these two. They never left the jonin, their sole purpose was to protect the heart of their clan.

“Daisuke.” He meant for his name to be bold and strong, like an akita’s bark but it was more like the coo of a sleeping baby. The two stepped back and opened the double doors and while one behemoth followed him his twin remained outside.

Inside only a few torches cast fluttering shadows over the stone floor. A trail worn in the floor led Daisuke to the middle of the room. In brief flashes of light he surreptitiously searched for the piked heads Harubi said decorated the walls. They were smooth and bare. No captured samurai hung from the ceiling either. In the next flicker of light the six jonin appeared on their mats like midnight lotuses; motionless, wordless, and terrifying. Daisuke stepped to the side so he could keep the titan shinobi in sight while he bowed. He wasn’t sure what he would do if the warrior made a move but it put his instincts to rest.

“Daisuke.” The voice whispered through the room and could have come from any of the seated figures. “Collect a map of soldier placements from the samurai warlord Kumisade.” Not one of them stirred, he tried to be discreet with his searching but finding the one that spoke was impossible in the unsteady light. His stomach settled some when he had the task; having the unknown made tangible grounded him. Daisuke bowed again and left the Chamber on stronger legs.

Kumisade’s stronghold was deep in the forest that spilled down Mount Teshio and flared out to cover the region. Unlike the Teshio clan, this samurai knew someone would eventually attack. The stone stronghold erupted from the land, its jagged black profile stood against the sky like a broken tree. The front walls were vertical timbers a man thick and bristling with slender needle pikes. He watched the patrolling soldiers along the battlements and scanned the walls and front gate looking for an easy way in. Torches were set intermittently along the battlements keeping shadows at bay. On the ground half a dozen alert akitas prowled at the end of their chains with keen eyes and even better noses.

It was impossible.

If he didn’t make it possible he would be disgraced, dishonored and an embarrassment to the entire clan. Filtering through years of training Harubi’s favorite three words nudged him to action; distraction, distraction, distraction. He lay under his bush a moment longer to steel his nerves and then slithered out and made his way closer to the dogs.

The akitas would be on alert for anything that didn’t smell or sound like it belonged and they had remarkable eyesight as well even in the dark. He found a rock as big as both his fists and using his shinobikatana made a shallow cut on his palm and smeared part of the rock with blood before heaving it as far from him as he could. He picked up a somewhat smaller rock and put it in one of his various pockets. The furred guards lifted their heads and stood stiff legged scenting the wind. A yapping chorus broke the night and they strained at the end of their leads. Soldiers poured from the front gate and the battlement guards stopped wandering and took cover in shielded arrow slits in the walls. The soldiers released the dogs and they ran for the rock leading their human pack. Daisuke found a blind spot between two archer positions and flitted across the exposed land and used the pikes as a ladder. He was over the wall in seconds. There was a high stone wall in front of him, sharp timber and a long drop behind, and well trained soldiers on either side. The ground soldiers began to emerge from the woods calling for the archers to stand down. He withdrew his other rock and tossed it down the stone wall listening to it ricochet and tumble. Huddling into the smallest, darkest ball he could the guards ran right past him on their way to investigate the sound. Once their footsteps were condensed away from him he sprang up and slipped down the walkway as a torch’s shadow.

He slipped into the first room he came too, partially shutting the door behind him. Empty. It was probably used to stockpile weapons during attacks, unhelpful and a dead end now. Slow footsteps clicked off the stone, a careless scrape of a sandal announced the wearer’s boredom. Daisuke backed into the darkness and crouched with a hand on his sword. When the soldier shuffled past he stepped out and every muscle in his body locked up. The sandaled man hadn’t moved on, he had stopped to look out over the battlements. From his clothes Daisuke knew he him for a samurai apprentice, the dangerous swords were visible without his outer kimono. The apprentice need only resume his walk and he would see Daisuke. Not even daring to breathe Daisuke slid one silent foot back into the comforting darkness and the apprentice turned.

He took a step as if he would discount Daisuke as another shadow and then whirled around, his kimono flaring out like a silken cherry blossom. Daisuke could duck into the closet but there was only one way in and out and the apprentice had all three swords. He could leap over the wall and abandon the assignment, or he could try to fight the apprentice and hope the samurai’s Bushido would keep him from calling for help. Daisuke leaped out of the shadows and slashed at the apprentice. There wasn’t a sound or a flash as the apprentice whipped out his own sword, the clean blade sliced through his jacket and protective sleeve and sank deep into his upper arm. Daisuke brought his foot down on the other’s thigh and the sharp pain from the blow made the apprentice falter. Daisuke disengaged and darted down the battlements searching for another door.

He had been trained to combat samurai, all apprentices were, but it was one thing to spare with Harubi and another thing to fight a real samurai. He hadn’t seen or heard him draw his sword, one moment he had been unarmed and the next he had almost sliced his arm off. Icy burning pain radiated from the wound. His fingers tingled and his mouth dried and he was thankful his previous nerves had kept him from eating anything. A clamor rose up behind him and the safe darkness of a doorway called to him. Stairs led down to a well lit room with a low table and several mats. He zipped through the room and out into the wide courtyard. He ran straight across to another door. Arrows sparked and pinged off stones. The door opened into a hallway. There were no guards yet but soon enough they would be searching for him.
He flew down the hall ducking in and out of shadows until he found a door painted with a lotus and a great bearded dragon.

The room was lit with dozens of squat candles that reflected the jewel bright colors of heavy tapestries and rugs. A man kneeling on the other side of the room slowly stood. Two swords flashed under the silk layers of his kimono. Kumisade. At the warlord’s side his unsheathed long sword was both golden with candlelight and silver with dark. He picked up a thin scroll of parchment off a low table and wedged it between the two swords. Daisuke’s heart seized. Cold sweat mixed with the warm blood running down his arm.

“You have come for the map.” Kumisade said serenely. He took a defensive position, sword held at arm length in front of him with the blade pointed up. The weight of Daisuke’s shinobikatana on his back was not reassuring. The throwing stars hidden in various pockets were though. Drawing his sword he rushed three steps forward and palmed a shuriken. The silver star buzzed through the air and he broke off the charge. The star was on target for Kumisade’s throat. Faster than the apprentice’s draw Kumisade’s blade whistled through the air and a second later the star bounced on the wooden floor in two pieces.

Daisuke palmed three more stars and threw them at different heights in quick succession. The three became six faster than his eye could follow. Daisuke’s stomach dropped to somewhere by his knees. Kumisade kept his stance and waited. Tightening his grip on his shinobikatana he threw two more stars and charged after them. He broke to the left throwing another star and swiped at Kumisade’s exposed side. Daisuke pulled his sword back in time to block Kumisade’s answering strike. The force behind the blow jarred his entire body and knocked him off balance. It felt like he’d tried to block a falling tree. Rolling away he scrambled to his feet again and knocked over a stand of candles. He circled around to get away from the wall. He had two shuriken left, his sword, and climbing claws. His arm throbbed in time with his too quick pulse and sent shockwaves of pain to the very tips of his fingers.

Kumisade broke his stance and swept his arm out to the side as if he would bow. Daisuke’s heart fell to where his stomach should have been as Kumisade prepared to charge. Behind the samurai light bloomed sending his shadow leaping forward. Daisuke backpedaled and dove to the side when Kumisade came at him. He circled around behind the warlord bringing his sword up to block. Sharp screech of metal meeting made his ears ring and the impact shook his bones. He backed up until heat stopped him, acrid smoke made his eyes water. With Kumisade stalking toward him he chanced a glance behind him. The candles he’d toppled were spreading their flames across one of the luxurious rugs. The small flame was gaining momentum and creeping closer to Daisuke’s heels.

An involuntary yelp squeaked out of Daisuke as he ducked and rolled away from Kumisade and the fire. His sword couldn’t take any more direct hits. Samurai swords were made for years of hard combat while his little sword was great for climbing, prying doors open and sneak attacks. Faint fissures in the metal snaked up and down the blade from the two blows it had already taken.

With a roaring whoosh the fire reached up and took hold of the rice paper walls and tapestries. Flakes of ash swirled in the smoky air. Kumisade’s concentration on him broke when the flames nipped his kimono. Harubi’s voice thundered in Daisuke’s head and he seized the moment and took a flying leap at Kumisade. The samurai saw him coming and swung at him. Daisuke’s little sword absorbed most of the blow and shattered. Kumisade’s blade bit into his hip and skittered off bone. Daisuke’s had done his damage though, the greedy fire pounced on the kimono. Daisuke grabbed the scroll and jumped back when the fire reached for him. Kumisade screamed for help while shedding layers of clothing. Daisuke ran from the room.

In the hall two guards spotted him and called for more. Daisuke used his last two stars to drop them. He dragged the smaller one into a dark room and took his armor. Soldier voices filled the hall and cries for water rippled through the ranks. The fire crackled and with a great sucking sound the wall of his room became ash. Daisuke slid into the hallway and joined the group running to the courtyard well for water. Hoping the general chaos would keep anyone from looking too closely at his face he broke away from the water group and tagged along with a line of soldiers searching for him. He weaved across the courtyard creeping closer to the stairway where he had come in.

The narrow stairs were packed with guards coming and going. Daisuke tried to mimic the angry and determined faces around him as the line he was in moved towards freedom one stair at a time.

A soldier going down caught his eye and his brow furrowed as if trying to place him. Sweat broke out along Daisuke’s spine. “You shouldn’t be going out there again.” The soldier said pointing to Daisuke’s bloody hand. Daisuke gave him a tight smile, “Only a glancing blow.” He answered. The soldier didn’t look convinced and now more were looking. “Can you shoot with that injury?” One of them demanded. Daisuke swallowed his confusion. The soldier in front of him turned around and Daisuke saw the bow in his hand and realized all the way up the line the soldiers had quivers on their backs. The archer looked Daisuke up and down, “what’s your name?” he asked. Cool night air blew down the stairwell and the line moved the final two steps into the open. Daisuke jumped out of line and hopped over the side of the wall grabbing pikes as he went down. Arrows thunked and chipped the wood around him and sank into the dirt. Angry barks came at him from two sides when he landed and he took off into the woods tearing the armor off as he went.

Panicked adrenaline fueled his flight and when that ran out he came to a stumbling halt. He sank down between a thorny bush and thick tree trying to catch his breath. His arm and hip ached and he dragged his knees up to his chest and closed his eyes.

Footsteps ghosted through the dense underbrush and Daisuke’s eyes snapped open. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe, and waited for whomever to pass.

“Daisuke, I know you’re here somewhere.” Harubi whispered. Relief made Daisuke’s body too weak to move so he waited for Harubi to find him. The older warrior detached from the shadows and crouched next to him. “You did well.” Harubi said. Daisuke shuddered, “I don’t want to know how this would have ended if I’d done poorly.” He pressed his hand against the gash on his arm. Harubi’s soft laugh didn’t disturb the night. “We wouldn’t have let anything happen to you.”

Daisuke paused his breath, listening to the night, but gave up after a few seconds. If the warriors didn’t want him to know where they were, he wouldn’t. “We?” his voice was thin. From the darkness a chorus of throaty aw-wah silenced the night sounds. Daisuke’s heart tried to leap from his chest and reached for his nonexistent shinobikatana. The panic faded a second later when half a dozen warriors came from the night, their eyes shining with triumph. The sound had been for him and a flush of pride tinted his cheeks. That low sound was reserved for fully initiated warriors who returned from dangerous assignments.

Daisuke knew all of the shadows, but with their faces covered he couldn’t tell any of them from Harubi. “We wouldn’t have let anything happen to you.” Harubi repeated. “Did…were you all watching?” Daisuke squeaked. Soft, identifying, laughter filtered through the dark. “The jonin send at least two for every task, not only to ensure it’s done but so we have someone to get us out of trouble.” Harubi explained. Wind blew through the trees spraying moonlight over the black figures. “I was never really alone?” Daisuke whispered.

“Of course not, this is your first assignment. You didn’t think we’d leave you at the mercy of the samurai do you?” Harubi admonished. Daisuke rested his head on his knees again too ashamed to answer. “Is that why you’ve been so nervous?” Harubi whispered shaking his head, “We’re family Daisuke, we’ll always take care of you.” Harubi stood, a sign for him to do so as well. Trying to hide his soreness Daisuke followed the warrior with six other shadows flitting through the trees beside them.

Harubi led him to a small space free of tall bushes and trees. From the darkness three figures stepped forward and Daisuke’s heart skipped a beat. The large warriors from the Chamber stood close to a smaller shinobi. “You have the scroll.” The same soft voice that had given the assignment said. Daisuke withdrew the scroll with shaking hands. He took a quick glance at Harubi, uncertain if he was to approach the jonin.

“You may approach.” The voice said. Was there a hint of laughter in there? Daisuke took a few cautious steps forward watching the dark eyes, but they betrayed nothing. When one of the large warriors stepped forward Daisuke handed the scroll to him. “You’ve done very well young warrior.” The jonin’s black eyes warmed and the tightness in Daisuke’s chest loosened. Without another word the three stepped back and melded with the darkness. “Let’s get you bandaged little warrior.” Harubi said with an affectionate bump to his uninjured shoulder. “And then we can tell the clan how you fought the great warlord Kumisade and won.”


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A/N: Okay, this is actually a short story written for a class assignment. I haven’t turned in the final draft yet so… you are my test group. If something seems off could you please point it out? Please and many thanks for reading and reviewing!