Death Before Dishonor Read online

  “Yuri, what are you doing?” he demanded just above a whisper.

  Yuri didn’t reply; he continued staring.

  “Yuri,” Terry demanded again, “what are you doing?”

  “What?” Yuri said finally.

  Terry looked back at Saki and Akiko; their faces were as hard as stone, and their eyes were boring holes into the door. He returned to Yuri. “What do you mean what?”

  Yuri chose to be evasive. “What’re you all doing here?

  “I was going to ask you the same thing,” Terry retorted.

  This time, Saki didn’t have the patience to deal with Terry’s and Yuri’s secretive conversations in a language he didn’t speak. “Why have you abandoned the clan?” he asked, the veins in his forehead made visible by his simmering anger.

  Yuri wasn’t a bit intimidated. “Was I talking to you, Saki?”

  “You forget who you are!”

  Terry put his hand up like Kintake tended to do to silence others. “Stop.”

  Yuri didn’t seem to care, though. He was a livewire and continued to engage Saki through the door. “No, you forgot who I am.”

  “Why would you leave at such a crucial time?” Akiko asked in a stern voice, barely letting Yuri get out his reply. “Have you no honor?”

  “Stop,” Terry demanded, trying not to raise his voice, “all of you. Arguing isn’t going to get us anywhere.”

  “You want some of this too?” Again, Yuri wasn’t trying to heed his brother’s sensibility.

  “Yuri?” came a woman’s voice from the bedroom. “Who are you talking to?”

  Terry’s face fell apart; he knew that voice. It wasn’t possible, though. There was no way on this green earth that Terry should have heard that voice. It wasn’t possible that the voice could be in this hotel, in this city, in Japan, in this hemisphere. But it was her; Terry knew it.

  Her.

  How was this possible? How could this be happening? What was Veronica doing in Japan at such a crucial point in Ninpo?

  The stone of Akiko’s and Saki’s faces turned from suspicion to betrayal.

  “What is the meaning of this, Yuri?” Saki yelled.

  Veronica was a couple of feet from Yuri now in her plush hotel robe and with a towel around her head, but his body blocked the door; she couldn’t see who was outside. “Yuri, who’s at the door? Her face was painted with concern. She’d never been to Japan before. Had she angered somebody by acting inappropriately? Had their credit not posted for the room? What was the problem?”

  Yuri peeled his head away from the door and pointed past her. “Go back into the parlor. Now.”

  “Yuri?”

  “Go!” he commanded finally.

  She walked backward into the parlor, confused by what was happening, and sat down on a couch that allowed her to keep watch of what was happening at the door. She was starting to become scared.

  “I cannot believe what I am seeing,” said Akiko, not trying to hide her disappointment.

  “Stop,” Terry said, turning his head slightly in her direction. “I’ll handle this.”

  Akiko wasn’t having it. “Don’t tell me to stop, Terry. We are here to find him, and here he is gallivanting with some harlot.”

  “You better watch your fucking mouth, bitch!” Yuri snapped. If they wanted to talk down to him, fine, but there was no way he was going to let them belittle Veronica. He grabbed his tanto out of his jacket pocket and began undoing the chain.

  “Stop.” Terry was animated in trying to make them listen. He spun bodily towards Saki and Akiko. “Let me talk to him in private.” Then he turned his head back to his brother. “Yuri, let me in so I can talk to you in private, okay?”

  Yuri’s face was unconvinced.

  “Yuri, it’s me for God’s sake. Let me in.”

  “The two of you have changed,” Akiko said over Saki’s shoulder. “You are not the Shinobi you once were, the Shinobi that we knew. You disappoint me.”

  Terry was tired of not being heard. He felt like he was dealing with children, and his voice reflected that. “Just give us a moment, please.”

  “We will wait downstairs. Do not take long; we must consider how to handle this,” Saki replied without ever taking his eyes off of Yuri.

  Terry’s hand shot out. “Fine, I’ll be down shortly.”

  Saki and Akiko turned and walked away, disappearing into the stairwell instead of walking to the elevators. Terry watched them go; then there was tense silence. Terry finally turned back to Yuri. “Can I come in?

  Yuri’s eyes were burning with distrust, but he nodded and opened the door, checking the hallway behind his brother before closing the door behind him.

  Terry made his way into the parlor, finding Veronica sitting up perfectly straight on the couch with an unmistakable look of fear and confusion on her face. She didn’t know whether to be polite and say hello or just remain quiet, so she opted for the latter.

  “See, Veronica? I told you we had family issues here in Japan,” Yuri said sourly.

  Terry decided not to involve her. It would only complicate things far more than they already were. He said nothing to her and just cut directly to the problem. “What’s she doing here?”

  “I flew her out here.”

  “What for? What were you thinking?”

  “I’m a grown man, Terry,” Yuri replied unapologetically. “I don’t have to explain myself to you or anyone else.”

  “Yuri, what’s going on?”

  The hilt of Yuri’s sheathed tanto came up between them. “You know what’s going on. I’ve told you.”

  “This is causing a tremendous amount of hate and discontent in the village.”

  “Fuck them,” Yuri said deadpan.

  “Where is this fuck-the-world attitude coming from?” Terry’s arms shot out to either side. “This isn’t like you.”

  “I don’t care about Ninpo anymore!”

  “Yuri, stop it. I know this isn’t easy. I mean, our lives are on the line here.”

  “No, you stop it, Terry. I’m not doing this.” Yuri stabbed the air between them with his finger. “I don’t care about the code. I’m through.”

  Terry didn’t know what to say. Yuri had fallen far, and Terry didn’t know what he could do to change it—to make it better. Yuri had truly chosen Veronica over honor, money over the Shinobi, luxury over Ninpo. And now here they stood at a crossroad with a weapon between them, an outsider watching, and two other Shinobi waiting in the lobby. The code was coming apart, it seemed, and Terry didn’t know what to do. Well—he did know what to do, but he didn’t know if he should do it—if he could do it.

  “You all came here to kill me, didn’t you?” Yuri asked softly.

  This caught Terry off guard. “What? No.” So Terry lied even though he had considered it and he and Saki and Akiko had argued about it. “No, Yuri, we need you.”

  “I don’t care what they want. I’m out. I’m done.”

  “Not them—me. I need you. I can’t do this without you.”

  “Then don’t do it,” Yuri countered without hesitation. “We don’t owe them anything.”

  “Yuri, they raised us.”

  “They abandoned us, too.” Yuri paused, searching his brother’s eyes. He saw the same pain that was in Terry, but it was as if Terry didn’t acknowledge it the same. “Where were we supposed to go, Terry? What did we have?”

  “Is that what this is about—about what we had?”

  Yuri aspirated frustration. “What—are you fucking stupid? No, Terry, we had nowhere to go. You had to practically carry me as we walked out of the village back to civilization because my foot was broken. Did you forget that? Did you?”

  “No.”

  Now Yuri was animated. “Because I was defending you, in case you forgot! And I had to walk out of Togakure Ryu on a broken foot!”

  “No, I haven’t forgotten. I’m not saying that they’ve never been wrong. I am just saying that they’re our family and—”

&nb
sp; “I’m your family, Terry!” Yuri howled, his face flushing bright red. “I’m the only family you have left! I’m the only family you’ve ever had!”

  “I don’t know what to say.” Terry was at a complete loss. What or who was he to betray: The good people who’d raised him, his beliefs and means of salvation, or his family?

  “Then don’t say anything. Just walk away”—Yuri indicated the door with his finger—“or leave me alone.”

  Terry stood silently for a moment with eyes unfocused. “I—I can’t just let the code go unfulfilled.” He didn’t sound sure.

  Yuri’s thumb broke the seal of his tanto’s sheath, preparing it to be drawn. “Then you’ve made your choice.”

  “Yeah…I guess I have,” Terry said, turning for the door. He opened it and looked back, opening his mouth as if to say something else, but he swallowed and slipped out.

  Yuri’s convictions were at war in his head. Did he hate Ninpo, or did he hate the Fujibayashi? Or did he think that he hated the Fujibayashi because he hated Omiyoshu Kintake? Hell, he was beginning to think he hated Terry.

  Yuri shook his head. He didn’t hate Terry; Yuri’s emotions were so distorted that he was having difficulty separating anger and hate. Anger was alive and white-hot and burned in the chest. Hate was a black, insidious ichor that burned somewhere beneath the stomach. Both burned, so they could be mistaken for one another.

  “Yuri, what happened?” Veronica asked finally. She’d watch this drama unfold from the couch. Even though she couldn’t understand what had been said except for the sporadic English curses, the intensity had been unmistakable. She was terribly worried about Yuri and his brother. Veronica had never seen them legitimately fight, argue and bicker perhaps, but not fight to such finality. “Baby?”

  The anger and hate were growing in intensity, burning Yuri’s internal organs. “Those bastards are driving a wedge between me and my brother.”

  “Who is, Yuri?”

  “Goddammit!” Yuri wasn’t going to let this happen. He wasn’t going to let his family be torn apart like it was before; he wasn’t going to let Terry put his life on the line without him. “I’ll be back,” he said before sprinting out of the door and jumping into the elevator.

  Yuri pounded the “lobby” button repeatedly with his finger, cursing the elevator and demanding that it hurry. The doors closed finally, and Yuri paced hungrily as the elevator fell. Sixteen stories couldn’t go fast enough, and the doors barely had time to open before Yuri squeezed through and sprinted into the polished-brass lobby, nearly knocking over a family of patrons checking in with their bags.

  “Terry!” Yuri yelled. He could see them standing out on the curb of the valet. “Terry, wait!”

  Terry spun, as did Saki and Akiko, who clandestinely readied themselves when the saw Yuri coming fast with his sheathed tanto still in his hand.

  Yuri slowed through the automatic doors, standing up straight to give his lungs room to expand. He gulped in a tankful of air. “I’m not going to let you do the ritual by yourself.”

  “I won’t be by myself. Saki and Akiko will be with me,” Terry said with hurt in his throat.

  Yuri gulped more air. “No. You’re not going to do this without your family. It’s not the way Mom would’ve wanted it.”

  “Okay.”

  “But after that, I’m out. I’m through.”

  “What if we don’t survive it?”

  Yuri shook his head. “Don’t give me another reason to say no. I’m doing this for you, not for Ninpo or the Fujibayashi.

  “Alright, then. I…uh…” Terry started looking over at the other two Shinobi. “We’ll wait for you to get your things.”

  “Don’t bother; I’ll meet you there.” Yuri threw a thumb over his shoulder. “I have some loose ends to tie up.”

  Chapter Fourteen: Uninvited Guest

  Shinobi are supple warriors. The bakufu expects an opponent to stand and fight. Strike from behind and kill without being seen.

  The Eighth Mandate, translated from Ninpo.

  Suzuka Mountains. Mie Prefecture, Japan. Today.

  The trek was amazing! Despite the overcast sky, the wind, and the cold, Veronica thought the vistas were to die for! Never had Veronica seen a countryside so unique and so beautiful. When she was in college, she had gone backpacking with a few friends, but it had been nothing like this. Yuri really amazed her with his savvy in the foreign wilderness. His understanding and comfort were so intriguing and attractive. He amazed her more and more since her arrival in Tokyo. He was so well versed in Japanese customs and the Japanese language, it was as if he had been doing it his whole life. Yuri never hid the fact that he had grown up in Japan, but he was never generous with his knowledge of it, and his command of it was deep and impressive.

  Yuri and Veronica, dressed like backpackers on a Euro-vacation, completed the final descent into Togakure Ryu. Yuri took the long way down to accommodate Veronica—the less-treacherous path. The routes into the village didn’t often trouble Shinobi, but the uninitiated didn’t have the same athleticism.

  “There’s the village,” Yuri said, pointing toward the collection of cottages through the canopy.

  “Are you serious?” Veronica couldn’t contain her excitement, waving her arms animatedly and grabbing Yuri’s pack and shaking it. Her feet ached from the three-hour hike, but this was totally worth it, this unfettered piece of Japanese history that was nestled in a most divine pocket of a range of mountains boiling out of a white landscape. The village was quaint and charming in the cold, but Veronica bet that it was absolutely breathtaking in the spring, when the trees and flowers were in full bloom.

  “Omigod, Yuri, this is magnificent! I can’t believe you actually grew up here. You’ve got to be pulling my leg.”

  “No, I’m dead serious.” He pointed deeper into the village. “I stayed in the house over there.”

  “So, where are your parents?”

  “Come on,” Yuri said, smiling and disregarding her question. “I’ll show you around.”

  Veronica stopped when she noticed a group of villagers encircling two men fighting. “Who are they? Why are they fighting.”

  “Just some villagers I grew up with. And they’re sparring, not fighting.”

  “Why are they sparring?”

  “This is Japan, Veronica. Everyone in Japan does karate,” Yuri replied sardonically.

  Then she realized that she recognized one of their faces. “Oh, that’s Terry.”

  Terry batted his opponent’s fist away. The strike had aimed for his face, but Terry sent it over his shoulder and then closed the distance with a step. His opponent replied with a flurry. Terry parried and weaved.

  Terry’s guard was surrounded by an imaginary square; his blocks painted arcs and chords that touched the corners of the box. Every strike was driven outside of its borders. Terry moved, and the box changed aspect. Aspect changes zoned out Terry’s opponent and forced him to move.

  The men danced around each other, Terry acting as the focus of a circle and his opponent drawing the circumference. His opponent pressed the attack, delivering punches and kicks to the head and the body. Terry was unfazed, pushing the man’s attacks outside of the square until Terry was close enough. Terry drove his knee through his opponent’s gut, forcing a retreat. His opponent backed away, holding his stomach, puffing steam into the air. Terry circled to the right, watching his opponent intently. He reset and coaxed his opponent forward with a hand. His opponent fired a side kick and followed with several rapid-fire kicks. Terry parried and dodged, blocking left and right and dancing a figure eight. He planted his feet finally, and seemingly effortlessly penetrated his opponent’s guard, catching him in the ribs. Terry’s opponent wasn’t interrupted; his attack remained energized as he switched from feet to hands.

  Terry weaved lines in the air with his arms, intercepting the strikes and driving them outside of the imaginary box, spreading out his opponent’s guard more and more with each strike.r />
  Movement in Terry’s peripheral vision captured his attention—more so than usual. His eyes leaped off of his opponent and fixed two people on the other side of the pigpens through the layer of spectators. Terry squinted his eyes, trying to be sure that he was really seeing what he thought he was seeing.

  No.

  It wasn’t possible.

  His mind had to be playing tricks on him.

  Just then, Terry felt fire in his face. Terry couldn’t keep his footing and toppled. His opponent had cracked off a shot and landed it against Terry’s jaw, jamming the hinge against his skull, while he was momentarily distracted. The crowd couldn’t believe it; neither could Terry’s opponent. Terry was a far superior fighter, and pulling off a shot that managed to take him out of the fight was completely unexpected. They all were a sea of blinking eyeballs.

  Terry shook his head to reboot himself. The pain in his jaw was the least of his concerns, and he hopped to his feet, wiped the mud from his hands, and pushed through the crowd. Their confused eyes followed.

  “Why is everyone staring at us?” Veronica asked.

  “They don’t get visitors often,” Yuri said, watching his brother approach. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Terry thundered across the pigpens, outrage boiling in his stomach, to where his brother was standing with Veronica. “What are you doing? Are you crazy?” he asked once he reached them.

  “Hey, Ter,” Yuri said, smiling brightly. “What’s up, buddy?”

  Veronica’s smile was equally bright. “Hi, Terry.” She waved at him. “This place is amazing.”

  “Veronica,” Terry replied tartly, returning his attention to his brother immediately. “Do you not realize what you’re doing? You just brought an outsider into Togakure Ryu. You know that’s against the code.”

  “Terry, don’t be rude. You know Veronica doesn’t speak Japanese. Stop making fun of her.” Yuri’s smile didn’t disperse, but his eyes told a different story; they overflowed with disdain.