Death Before Dishonor Page 25

  “My Chunin,” he continued, “Mamushi has made his decision. Now drink and see if he has deemed you worthy.”

  All three were reluctant. Deciding whether or not to drink the tea was like putting a single round in a revolver's cylinder, giving it a whirl, and then putting the barrel in your mouth. Chances were that you'd survive the first couple of pulls, but the more pulls you made, the worse your chances became. Terry, Yuri, and Saki had survived this ritual before, but doing it again was like pulling the trigger a second time. All they could hope for was that adulthood made them more resistant.

  Saki was the first to reach for his cup. Terry and Yuri followed a half-second later. They all sat there momentarily, minds racing. Then they placed the cups to their lips and poured the tea into their mouths. Saki didn't let it linger; he let it flow down his throat immediately. Yuri swallowed hard and then exhaled his stress. Terry swallowed in pieces, watching Mamushi wriggle in Kintake's grip.

  The tea tasted faintly of coconut, like they remembered, seemingly benign, but they knew the worst was yet to come.

  ***

  The past week had been awful. Awful was an understatement. Terry, Yuri, and Saki weren’t afforded much time to recover from the envenomation. Hell, they were lucky to be alive. The venom first induced a sustained burning sensation in their veins, followed by nausea and vomiting. It caused fevered chills and teeth-grinding cramps. The worst of it came in their sleep, however. It caused night terrors that left even the most stoic individuals sleepless. The clan showed little sympathy, waking them up shortly before sunset to eat and then begin training. Food only increased their nausea, and nausea made training cruel.

  The Fujibayashi woke the three warriors for an assembly with the Jonin to meditate and to consult matters of spirit and prayer. Afterward came physical conditioning, sparring, stealth training, and weapons training, followed by more spiritual conditioning, sparring, and training, and then to bed before the sun rose.

  Each evening, the three men had to run up the eastern ridge and then climb down the craggy cliffs into the adjacent valley only to have to return the long way up the river before the sun came up. They had lost count of the number of times they’d had to stop and vomit. Despite the venom’s punishing effects, they managed to endure.

  The Fujibayashi waited in the dark with prepared meals, fresh clothes, medical relief, and plans for follow-on phases of training and conditioning for the three warriors. When they returned, the Fujibayashi swarmed over the warriors, tending to the men like prized race horses; Saki, Terry, and Yuri couldn’t brush their hair or go to the bathroom without tenders assisting. This went on for weeks.

  By the third day, Yuri was well enough to use the personal time he was given to sneak off to call Veronica on the satellite phone, standing on the edge of the village to talk in peace. Terry didn’t approve, but he didn’t say anything.

  Yuri missed Veronica. She was on his mind during prayer and meditation. She was on his mind when he was conditioning, when he was fighting, when he was training, and when he was surrounded by the darkness and silence during stealth training.

  Terry could see that Yuri was distracted. In fact, Yuri had almost lost a hand during a live sword drill when he hadn’t moved as fast as normal. The Shinobi in charge of honing their atrophied skills with traditional weapons had chastised his complacency. Yuri’s eyes had burned with disdain for the criticism. Terry had suggested that his brother remain focused. The suggestion had only elicited the same disdainful look from Yuri.

  Within three weeks, their bodies had settled into the demands of retraining and the muscle memory of using of weapons they hadn’t used in years. Saki was still familiar with many of the weapons, but Terry and Yuri had not dedicated attention to exercising their skills with staves, chain weapons, swords, and other traditional weapons. Such weapons just weren't necessary for their line of work. It didn't take them long to remember their katas and tactics, however.

  While their bodies were beginning to operate like the well-oiled machines that they had been trained to be, their minds were not in sync. Saki and Terry were aligned, but Yuri was thousands of miles away. He put no energy into their work; he was simply going through the motions. Terry was coming to realize that Yuri wasn’t exaggerating when he said he didn’t care about any of this anymore, and it showed in his performance. Terry, however, did have to defuse an altercation between Yuri and two Jonin when Yuri grew tired of their treatment of him during training. Yuri told everyone aloud that he didn’t care about Ninpo enough to give it any real energy. He truly was disconnected. He was paying too much attention to Veronica. Terry wasn’t happy about that. He decided he was going to talk to Yuri about it.

  ***

  Terry finished bathing and made his way back to the cottage that was solely dedicated to housing the Chunin seniors. They had been given several hours of free time to tend to themselves before they needed to get to bed. He came through the rice paper door to see Saki kneeling on the floor, meditating over a freshly cleaned ninjatō.

  “Where’s my brother?” Terry asked.

  “I have not seen him for some time,” Saki replied without opening his eyes. “He was not here when I came in.”

  Terry stalked out of the cottage, resisting the urge to slam the door behind him. This relationship with Veronica was becoming frustrating. Yuri’s focus was strained, and he needed to remember his priorities.

  Terry walked out to the pigpens, where Yuri usually went to have a peaceful conversation, but Terry didn’t see him. Terry scanned the pens, the hillside, and the yards around the immediately visible cottages. There was only a boy in one of the pens to his left and a handful of livestock.

  Terry asked the young Shinobi who was tending the goats if he had seen Yuri.

  “Earlier,” the boy replied. “He passed through the pigpens and went that way.” The boy pointed up the incline of the pass that led up the western ridge.

  “What? Where was he going?”

  “I’m not sure, Terry. But Yuri had a bag on his back when he left.”

  ***

  “What do you mean he is gone?” Kintake inquired from his place on the floor at the center of the room of his cottage. His legs were tucked beneath him, and his tanto was in its sheath on the floor in front of him. “Who is gone?”

  Kintake was flanked by three Jonin: one bald, one balding, one blind and all dressed in midnight-blue robes. Their attention suddenly focused on Saki, Terry, and Akiko. The Jonin’s faces already displayed disapproval, even though Saki had only begun his explanation. Never before had he been under such scrutiny as he was now, and the Jonin were showing him no quarter despite Saki being the first senior and one of the most gifted Shinobi that the Fujibayashi had ever raised.

  “Yuri is gone,” Saki said humbly just inside the doorway, followed by Terry and Akiko.

  “Where has he gone to?”

  “I am not sure, Omiyoshu Sensei.”

  The skin around Kintake’s eyes tightened, and the contours of his face distorted. “You are not sure, you say?”

  Saki swallowed hard and nodded.

  “Well, find him,” Kintake said delightfully, the lines in his face softening again. “You are Shinobi, after all. Surely, finding one man on the grounds should not be too much trouble.”

  “Therein is the problem, Sensei. We have searched the immediate grounds and the surrounding areas. We are unable to find him.”

  “We have more training to complete before the ritual begins if we are to ensure success!” the bald elder snapped. “Yuri delays that!”

  Akiko, Terry, and Saki had agreed that Saki would handle all the talking when they entered the kōchō’s quarters to show a unified front, but Akiko didn’t agree with the unexpected ambivalence that Saki was displaying. She decided to speak up. “He should have returned some time ago. I fear that Yuri has abandoned us.”

  Terry’s eyes shifted to Akiko; she ignored him.

  “He violates our traditions by leaving!�
� said the balding elder. His voice was gravelly and strained by wisdom, and he’d barely given Akiko a chance to complete her sentence.

  The blind elder watched them blankly. “He violates Ninpo! A grave crime indeed!”

  The bald Jonin opened his mouth to continue chastising when Kintake raised a silencing hand. “Surely, there is a logical explanation for this.” He pointed past Saki. “Terry, what is the meaning of this?”

  Terry chewed his bottom lip. “I don’t have an answer, Sensei.”

  “Don’t you?” Kintake’s voice was doubtful.

  “He does,” the bald Jonin interjected with an accusing finger. “The second senior is closest to Yuri. He witnesses Yuri’s behavior, but he does nothing.”

  “What am I supposed to do?” Terry asked disdainfully; it wasn’t a question.

  “Many of the Jonin claim that Yuri lacks focus and dedication,” the bald Jonin continued, “that he has become a shell of a Shinobi. He no longer cares about our traditions or our code. His time away from the Fujibayashi has distanced him from Ninpo. He must be killed, or he’ll bring dishonor upon us all.”

  Terry’s face hardened. “Let’s not get crazy.”

  “You dare challenge a Jonin?” the blind Jonin demanded angrily. “Have you forgotten your station?”

  “Terry, be calm,” said Akiko, placing her hand on Terry’s arm.

  “Oh, I’m calm. Don’t worry,” Terry said dismissively, less to her and more to the Jonin. His stomach was in knots. Why had his brother put them—him—in this situation? It didn’t make sense. Sure, Yuri had expressed some discomfort with returning, but Terry hadn’t thought it was this serious. Had Yuri left to a place where he could just separate himself from the clan’s constant grind, or had he truly abandoned them? The latter Terry doubted greatly. Yuri wouldn’t abandon him above all things; betrayal wasn’t in his nature. Still, Yuri’s absence was causing outrage, not just with Kintake and the Jonin, but with Saki and Akiko as well. Saki was viewed as their leader, and the burden of disappointment fell upon his shoulders. Akiko, on the other hand, felt horribly slighted by her father preventing her participation in the ritual. Yuri’s seeming disregard only added insult to injury. And worse yet, the outrage would only grow once the village at large found out. Terry didn’t know what to do. He just needed time to talk some sense into his brother.

  “Do you see?” Kintake asked.

  “See what, Father?” Akiko asked. “Do we see what?

  “Do you see what dishonor does to us? I told you all about this when you were children. Dishonor destroys those around us. Here we are, challenging each other and condemning our own to death on the doorstep of the eve of our finest moment.” Kintake’s stare penetrated the three seniors. “Dishonor is a cancer. It sickens us all.”

  “My brother is not without honor, Omiyoshu Sensei,” Terry replied, leaping to Yuri’s defense. “He’s a dedicated Shinobi and strong with Ninpo. If only you could have seen his performance and deeds over the past seven years. His skills are peerless.”

  Akiko was unconvinced. “Then why would he have left?”

  The Jonin concurred aloud.

  “Yuri is dealing with his own demons, and let’s not forget that we were forced to leave on unforgiving terms. Perhaps he’s acting out as a result. Perhaps he feels unwelcome; I know that I do at times.”

  Kintake rolled his eyes. “We would not want you to be uncomfortable, Terry.”

  “And what is this forced nonsense you speak of?” Akiko said, supporting her father. “No one forced Yuri to leave. He—and you—left of your own accord, your own selfishness.”

  “What are you talking about?” A mixture of anger, disappointment, and surprise was bubbling up from Terry’s stomach. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “We didn’t choose to leave—

  “Hai!” Kintake asserted loudly. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at him. “Are we geisha or Shinobi? None of you are going to interrupt my meditation to bicker about your troubles with getting along. We are not going to argue this anymore. Terry, where do you believe Yuri has run off to?”

  “I don’t know, Sensei,” Terry said sincerely. “Tokyo, probably. He’s definitely not anywhere near here; we looked everywhere. I would call him, but he took the satellite phone with him. And the nearest signal for my cell phone is easily a two-hour walk from here.”

  Kintake massaged the tension from the muscles on the back of his neck. Yuri was always impossible, and for that reason, Kintake did not miss him. Even in Yuri’s absence, he was a catalyst for pandemonium. One thing was sure: Kintake was going to put Yuri’s talent for disruption on the battlefield if it was the last thing he did.

  “Use the telephone in the center hall to see if you can reach Yuri. If not, Saki,” Kintake said, “you will take Terry and Akiko and find Yuri—by whatever means necessary. Allow me to be clear. Yuri has a penchant for disobedience and disruption. While I have been tolerant of such behavior in the past, my patience has thinned with age. I expect our most hallowed ritual to proceed without disruption. I expect that Yuri will be present…but I won’t allow him to dishonor us either. Go find him and don’t return until you do.”

  “What happens when we find him, Master?” Saki asked.

  “You are all Shinobi; you will do what is necessary. The ritual opens in two weeks, and it will proceed as planned. Be gone from my sight.”

  The three seniors filed out through the door single file. Her argument unfinished, Akiko was reluctant to leave, but she could see that the look in her father’s eyes placed him near his wits’ end, and she didn’t want to push him further, so she did as she was told and followed Terry and Saki.

  “Omiyoshu Sensei, we must decide how we are to deal with Yuri’s transgressions,” the balding Jonin said. “We must satisfy the ancestor Shinobi, for their anger is terrible.”

  These three old vultures were no better than his hot-headed seniors! Kintake had finally had enough. “You three get out too, before I have your heads removed!”

  The Jonin scurried out as commanded. Kintake watched them go and regretted not being heavy-handed. There was a time when no one had trifled with his authority—except Yuri. Yuri had always been the thorn in his side. His daughter was right; Yuri should be killed. It would even make Kintake happy. But to do so would play havoc on what lay ahead. Kintake needed the ritual to go off without a hitch. He couldn’t afford for it not to.

  ***

  There was a knock at the door. Yuri heard it from the bedroom of his hotel room and became instantly suspicious. Most people would assume that unexpected knocks would come from housekeeping or the concierge, but the predator inside told him differently.

  He listened for voices or perhaps the door opening from the doorway of the bedroom of the suite before checking over his shoulder to ensure that the bathroom door was shut completely. It was, and the shower was running, so any noise would be drowned out by it as he crept to the front door.

  There was another series of raps on the door.

  Yuri could wait it out and see if the visitor left, but what if his instincts were right? What if he really was in danger? Whether or not he wanted to take part in the Fujibayashi’s activities, he was still subject to their consequences. That said, he wanted to know who was at the door. If he was in danger, he wanted to know a face.

  By now, the Fujibayashi had to have realized that he was gone, and he was sure that they were swarming about like a disturbed hive of angry wasps. Leaving was not an easy decision, especially if it meant leaving his brother behind. Honestly, Yuri was terribly conflicted about leaving his brother, but what was he to do? Continue to blindly follow the directives of people he hadn’t seen in the better part of a decade? Yuri had left the village without saying anything. He had quietly and unilaterally decided that he had reached his limit and was leaving. He hadn’t talked to anyone, not even his brother. Yuri hadn’t wanted to argue about it, especially in light of the ritual revering Mamushi; that had been the la
st straw. Yuri remembered the horrors of drinking the legendary venom of the viper that had killed the entire cadre of Oda Nobunaga’s army. It had nearly killed him as a child, and he would have sworn that it was going to kill him as an adult. He was lucky to have survived again, he thought. But what if he hadn’t survived? He’d have never seen Veronica again. Sure, he could perish in the ritual fight, but he, at least, was willing to die in combat; he had some control over that. He wasn’t, however, willing to die participating in any other rituals that used his life as a mere offering.

  Another series of knocks interrupted his thoughts.

  Yuri left the bedroom and crept into the parlor. The shades were drawn, and the kitchen was clear. His ninjatō was underneath the cushions of the couch, and his tanto was in his jacket hanging just to the left of the door. He was more than willing to spill blood if he needed to, but it was going to be hell to clean up. The walls of the suite were painted red and were no trouble, but the plush carpet was pearl white. Blood would be next to impossible to eliminate. That was just a consequence he’d have to deal with if the situation arose. Even if he was through, it was doubtful that his brother and his fellow Shinobi were going to take no for an answer, especially after going through all the trouble to find him.

  Yuri held his breath and looked through the peephole, and he saw a distorted image of Terry wearing an unassuming collared shirt and jeans backed by Saki and Akiko, both dressed like impoverished farmers. Their arrival wasn’t joyous; they were no doubt armed, and he was unsure of their intent. If he weren't so uneasy, he’d have been impressed by their ability to track him.

  Terry knocked again, harder this time.

  Yuri looked over his shoulder, making sure that the parlor was clear. It was, so he unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door until the chain went taut. Yuri’s eyes locked with Terry’s eyes, then with Saki’s, and then with Akiko’s; their faces were all business. Nobody said anything at first. There was an ocean of tension boiling between them. Yuri hadn’t figured out what he was going to do. He was rolling the dice. Then Terry broke the silence.