The Ninja's Oath, page 21
“I grew up in the mountains of the Mie Prefecture, outside a city that is considered the birthplace of the ninja. You have probably heard of the Iga-Ryu Ninja Museum and the other touristy amusements and attractions that sprouted up after the ninja boom. When I was a child, tourists came to Iga to visit the forests and rivers and escape the bustle of city life. Ninja had become myths parents told to keep their children in line.
“My father was an artisan wood worker.” Ren glanced at his soup and smiled. “My mother made udon for a noodle shop near our home. Both taught me to love and respect nature. Both were very surprised when I began training in an actual ninja martial art even though so much of it comes from and relies upon natural elements.” Ren chuckled. “I find that amusing, don’t you?
Although neither man answered, they both watched him keenly as they ate.
Ren shrugged. “My teacher came from a long line of ninja who passed their knowledge through their family since the sixteenth century, beginning with a Tendai Buddhist monk who studied Kung Fu in China and ninja arts with the Fujibayashi clan. He became what is known as Yamabushi or Shugenja, a mountain-wandering priest. He protected his family and community. But he kept his training secret and only passed it down to the descendants who showed the most skill. My teacher had no descendants. So he taught the art to me and a handful of enthusiastic boys.”
“Only boys?” Tran asked.
“I know. It was sexist even then, especially in light of the skilled kunoichi of the past. If my teacher had accepted female students, their influence might have taken us down a different path.”
“What happened?”
Ren chuckled. “What always happens between top students who are too close in skill. We veered in different directions so we wouldn’t have to compete.”
“We who?” Uncle asked, before slurping more soup.
“Ichiro Inoue and me.”
“Is that who sent you the email?” Tran asked.
“I believe so. The name in the subject line of the email was Yoshito, the warrior name awarded to me by my teacher, Jiro Tashigi. It means—”
“Righteous person,” Tran said.
“Ah. You understand Japanese very well. Then you will understand the meaning behind Zuruihito, the name Tashigi Sensei gave to my nemesis.”
“Cunning person.”
“Yes. Which, in the ninja arts, can be a valuable trait.”
“But not with Zuruihito?”
Ren sighed. “Ichiro was more interested in the tricks of espionage and psychological manipulation. I wanted a deeper understanding of our physical training and the spiritual and esoteric teachings passed down from Tashigi Sensei’s Yamabushi ancestor.”
Chang sucked his noodles with excessive force. “This story of yours has taken a hundred breaths already. Will you please get to the point?”
“Soon, I promise. But there is an order to things if you hope to understand.”
Ren sipped more tea. “I have always been a quiet and serious person. Ichiro had a magnetic personality.” Ren looked at Tran. “He was seductive like you. He drew in the other students like flies to honey, offering sweetness, then sticking them to his agenda.”
Tran raised a brow. “Which was?
“Making money. Ichiro had no other skills and no interest in school. He wanted to rise above his family’s poor existence. He would trick people in Iga City into giving him products and services. Sometimes he would spy and extort. Other times, he would steal. He made everything he did seem like a ninja test or challenge. I told Tashigi Sensei about his actions and his sway over the other students. My teacher already knew, but he couldn’t convince Ichiro to admit his wrongdoings or catch him in a lie. Ichiro was so good at what he did, even I couldn’t supply any proof.”
Chang snorted. “So your teacher kept teaching his criminal students?”
Tran gave him a look. “And you wouldn’t have?”
“That’s different,” Chang said. “I was already a criminal. I never claimed to be anything else.”
Ren hummed in thought. “I understand your perspective, Mr. Chang. But Tashigi Sensei believed he could direct his students onto the right path. As their teacher, it was his responsibility to try. I did not feel the same. By this time, I was thirty-three years old and had a ten-year-old son who had recently begun to train. I didn’t want Haru to fall under Ichiro’s spell. So I pulled him out of our dojo and taught him myself. But Haru had no interest in my old-fashion art. He thought he knew all he needed to know.”
Ren closed his eyes, dreading what was to come.
“One night, I took my wife and son to a restaurant in the city to celebrate Haru’s good grades. Kimiko left her sweater. I went back to get it. I returned in time to see Haru yank Kimiko’s purse from a mugger. When the accomplice stabbed my son, Kimiko fell on them like a demon. I ran faster than I had ever run in my life. Thousands of miles running in the mountains, and still I was too slow.”
He looked from Chang to Tran. “A little knowledge is like a loaded gun in the hands of a child. My family died because my son believed he knew all there was to know.”
Chang put down his spoon and gazed at Ren with unexpected compassion. “You’re hard on Lily, just like me.”
Ren nodded. “I don’t want her to make the same mistake as my son.”
“What happened to the robbers?” Tran asked.
“I killed the murderer. The mugger escaped. When news reached my dojo, Ichiro rallied the other students. They found the killer and set up a plan for revenge. Before we ambushed him, I changed my mind. I tried to stop them, but Ichiro killed the mugger on my behalf.”
Chang scoffed. “He didn’t do it for you. He did it for leverage against you.”
“Yes. After one brief telling, you see more of Ichiro’s heart than I had discerned over twenty-five years of training.”
Chang shrugged. “Only because I would have done the same.” At Ren’s surprise, Chang added, “I wasn’t always a cook.”
“I see. Then you can guess what happened next. Ichiro threatened to bare false witness to the police, who would naturally suspect me, unless I left our dojo and our town. He was tired of competing for our teacher’s attention. He wanted me gone so Tashigi Sensei would pass on the Oku-hiden scroll to him.
“I went to my teacher’s home dojo in the forest to tell him what Ichiro had done and to beg for his help. He was crushed, of course. But he also understood the truth of the situation.
“‘The police will believe Ichiro and the others over you. You must do what he says and go.’
“‘What about our school?’ I had asked. ‘How can you let your students corrupt our art in this way?’
“My teacher had stared into the forest as if seeing the past, then turned his sadness onto me. ‘Ichiro would have made a great spy back in the day. The espionage skills he wants to study are a valuable part of my family’s ninja traditions. I will continue to teach what he and the others want to learn, but I will also try to teach them the integrity they need.’
“I called him irresponsible and naive. He told me to hold my judgment until I had walked along his path. Then he gave me the secret Oku-hiden scroll.”
Tran leaned forward. “So you didn’t steal the scroll as your nemesis stated in the email.”
Ren shrugged. “In Ichiro’s mind, I did. As senior students, we had both seen and hand-copied the Shoden-, Chuden-, Okuden-, and Hiden-level scrolls. But our teacher had never shared the deeper secrets in the Oku-Hiden scroll, which he hinted might reverse everything we had ever been taught in order to achieve a truly magical level of mastery. There are other secrets that Ichiro may or may not suspect.”
“What kind of secrets?” Tran asked.
“A different lineage than the one he has seen with the true masters of the Tashigi ninja clan’s art. The first syllables of their names point to deeper secrets that can only be understood after deciphering the poem contained in the scroll.”
Chang laughed and elbowed Tran’s side. “They’re digging in the wrong place!”
Ren furrowed his brows.
“It’s a movie reference,” Tran said.
“One of Lily’s favorites,” Chang agreed.
“I don’t care about your movie. This scroll is important. Tashigi Sensei entrusted it to me so he would never be tempted to pass it on to Ichiro. I cannot tell you what it contains, but I can say that it would do considerable harm in his hands.”
Chang shoved his empty bowl to the center of the table. “And I don’t care about your super-secret scroll. Why would these criminal ninja know Lily is your student?”
Ren matched his contempt. “Why has a triad member and an assassin brought my student to Japan?”
“I’m not triad any longer. I can’t answer for him.”
“Not important,” Tran said. “Ren has the scroll. Ichiro has Lily. All that matters is getting her back safely so we can rescue Suyin.”
Ren was lost. “Who is Suyin?”
“Aiya. We don’t have time for this.”
“Make time, Mr. Chang. The last I heard, Lily-chan had escorted her mother to Hong Kong.”
“Fine. But keep up. I’ll only say this once.” Chang gulped down the last of his tea. “I asked Lily to come to Shanghai to help me find my missing grandniece, Chyou, who was kidnapped to force my family into using our connections to find my sister’s stepdaughter, Suyin, a chemist who had been working for a drug-trafficking gang in Hefei. Suyin ran away. The gang wants her back.”
“But why come to Japan?” Ren said.
“The gang in Hefei was selling a fentanyl analogue that Suyin created to a gang in Osaka. According to our information, they brought Suyin here.”
“Brought or kidnapped?”
“No one knows. The Hefei gang thought Suyin ran away.”
“And now?”
Chang’s expression grew hard. “There aren’t enough of them left to care.”
Ren stared into his tea. How many more men had died from the lessons he had taught? This summer had been hard on Lily-chan and forced her to do things he himself had not done. When this crisis had passed, he would speak to her about this in depth.
“I have listened carefully, Mr. Chang. Your story explains why you all came to Japan. But why did Lily-chan go to the restaurant across the road?”
Tran took over. “She spotted three women with Yakuza-style tattoos in a bathhouse known to be visited by this Osaka gang. Lily followed the youngest to that restaurant. She was watching from a souvenir shop a few doors down. When I called her later, she had moved to a takoyaki stand across the side road to get away from a karate jerk who was arguing with her about the Ninja Museum. She must have told him about her training because he lectured her on all the reasons why the ninja arts and her teacher were fake. Then he hit on her and took her picture. She said she was hiding behind a Billiken statue so he wouldn’t see where she had gone.”
Ren nodded. “I saw the Billiken on my way here.”
Tran leaned forward. “Now answer Lee’s question. What could Lily have said to this karate jerk that would connect her to you?”
Ren slumped in his seat, weighed down by the burden of his seventy years.
“If I had known she would come to this part of Japan, I would have warned her not to ask questions or mention her training. This is all my fault. I didn’t tell her enough. No name. No history. No stories about my training or my teacher. Only that I lived and trained in Iga and came to America before she was born. Lily-chan is curious. She would want to know more. She is also proud. If this man doubted her training, she would have bragged and described what she knew about me.” He took a breath. “She has also seen the scroll.”
“That would do it,” Tran said.
“Could the karate jerk be ninja?” Chang asked.
“Possibly.” Ren shrugged. “Or he might have been manipulated or paid to spread misinformation to tourists. Whatever Ichiro is up to will not benefit from this ninja boom.”
Tran sighed. “Lily is more trusting than she believes.”
“This is true,” Ren said. “Despite all that she has suffered and seen, Lily-chan searches for good in everyone she meets.”
Chang snorted. “Of course she does. Why else would she be friends with criminals like us?”
Forty-Seven
I lowered my yoga plank to the floor, arched into cobra, and pushed into my heels for a downward dog stretch. With my hips to the ceiling, I extended one leg into three-legged dog and arched to the side to open my hips. As much as it hurt, this vinyasa came easier this time than my six preceding attempts.
I lowered to my knees and sat on my heels.
Another night on the floor had done nothing to help the ache of my injuries, all of which hurt more on the second day than the first. At least the long session of yoga had elongated my spine and loosened the cramps. Equally important, it had passed the hours since breakfast. I would do it again after lunch—provided they continued to feed me. Even a few spoonfuls of rice along with the water kept up my energy and helped to focus my mind.
If only I could stop worrying about Baba and Ma.
Two days without updates was driving me mad. I never should have let Ma deal with this alone. I should have returned to Los Angeles as soon as we rescued Chyou. I slumped against the wall. The should nevers and should haves overwhelmed me every time I sat still. My world had narrowed into a litany of regrets and shame.
And then there was Rose.
My ever-companion clung to me in death in ways I had not allowed her to cling to me when she still lived. I had moved onto campus to escape my mother’s control and left my impressionable sister behind. I had freedom and autonomy. Rose fought for the same, lying to our parents and going to clubs with a fake ID. She would not have rebelled if I had still lived at home. And I would have answered her text if I had not been with Pete. My one night of freedom and love had cost my sister her life.
“Please forgive me,” I whispered.
But my torment wouldn’t end until I could forgive myself.
I bowed my head. “I have, from beginningless time, created negative karma through ignorance, greed, and anger manifested through my actions, words, and thoughts, misdirected and misused. For all of these, I here and now acknowledge and atone.”
This translation of the San-ge Mon purifying affirmation had always held deep meaning for me. I strove to make reparations by helping other vulnerable women and girls like my sister. But in coming to Osaka to search for Suyin, I had abandoned my parents as I had abandoned them after Rose’s death. Instead of bonding in our shared grief, I had detached from everything and everyone except for Sensei and the ninja arts. It wasn’t until I had turned myself into a fighting machine and brought justice to my sister’s killer that I reconnected with my parents and began working for Aleisha’s Refuge. Although Ma might suspect, she still didn’t know I had stalked Rose’s killer and nearly become a victim myself.
I shook out my hands to dispel the negativity and clapped them in front of my forehead in Gassho. I closed my eyes and recited the first of several prayers that began my morning meditation.
“To receive human birth is difficult. Now I have received it. To hear the enlightenment teachings is difficult. Now and here I hear them. If I do not take the path of enlightenment in this lifetime, when again in the future will I ever have the chance to do so?”
I continued my affirmation to train hard and purify my thoughts, words, and actions, performing all manner of good works, and transferring all merit and virtue to help others find the peace of enlightenment and eternal unsurpassed joy I sought. I had just reaffirmed my commitment to the Three Treasures when I heard the bolts on my door slide.
I rose to my feet. This time, Shaved Head was armed with a gun.
“On the floor, face down, hands over your head.”
Before I could plan my next move, Spiky Hair stabbed my arm with a needle. The effects hit me fast, dulling my senses and bathing me in calm. Although I struggled to fight it, I soon forgot why.
Spiky Hair helped me stand and turned me toward the open door. When I veered into the wall, he grabbed me by the arm.
I smiled as he set me back on course. “You’re so sweet. But would your mama approve of what you’ve done with me?” I reached for the gelled spikes poking from his head. “Or your hair?”
He swatted my hand away.
I chuckled. “I get it. Look but don’t touch.”
He growled. “Keep quiet and walk.”
I turned to Shaved Head. “Is he always this testy? Ooh, your scalp looks so smooth. Can I feel?”
He scolded Spiky Hair in Japanese and received a feisty retort in return.
I patted their arms. “Hey, hey, hey. Be nice, okay?”
They kept bickering in Japanese and led me past a room with computer monitors, surveillance grids, and a bunch of other cool electronics I was dying to touch. Did they stream movies in there? If I behaved, would they let me watch Kill Bill?
Spiky Hair shoved me from behind.
Around the corner, we came to a large room with martial arts mats and weapons mounted on racks. A Shinto temple sat on the spirit shelf in the center of the back wall with a shimenawa rope of rice straw hanging across the top from which paper lightning bolts dangled to purify the space. Offerings of plants, incense, and rice lined the shelf. The shrine even had a polished mirrored disk on a wooden stand for the kami to visit and rest.
I pulled away from Spiky Hair and hurried inside. “You have a kamidana and shintai mirror like mine. You are ninja. Can we train?”
When he reached for my arm, I slipped his grasp, circled around him, and checked out the artwork. The kanji on the calligraphy scrolls were similar to or possibly even the same as the characters I had seen on the fabric banners hanging on the front wall of Sensei’s home dojo. There was even a colorful print of a familiar demon. But they didn’t have the Taizokai and Kongokai Buddhist mandalas that hung on either side of Sensei’s kamidana shelf.
Shaved Head yanked me out of the dojo before I could pick up a spear.
