Chasing the Secret (3 page)

Hana took the chopsticks and gave me the tiniest nod as I passed her on my way back to my place. As I turned, I was filled with pride that her hand was steady as she received the next bone.

Above us, a single bird of prey wheeled and circled.

At last, the priest used the carved stone to crush the round skull bones. Then the urn was wrapped neatly in a white cloth and presented to Uncle Hidehira, who led the way back inside the temple.

We proceeded behind him, our steps slow and respectful. I felt relief that Goku's spirit would be
happy here, near the dojo he loved so much. Hana and I could set out on our journey knowing he was at peace.

All the mourners gathered inside the temple for the final moments of the funeral. At last, Uncle placed the urn on the altar, and after a pause it was time for the mourners to file past, one by one, and head back to the dojo. The casket bearers were to go first, offering a formal bow to Goku's casket and then to the
Jito
before moving toward the front temple doors.

When it came to my turn, I had to steel myself to keep my head down and bow to Uncle Hidehira, pretending to offer my respect.

Mr. Choji was behind me. As I moved forward, following Hana and Tatsuya, I glanced back over my shoulder and saw Mr. Choji approach the altar and bow respectfully to the urn rather than to the
Jito
. He paused in front of Uncle Hidehira. But he did not bow as we had done. He simply stared at Uncle, his chin tilted up defiantly.

I could see Uncle Hidehira's cheeks flushing slightly as he met Mr. Choji's gaze. There was a moment of silence in the temple, as if everyone present was holding his breath.

I bit my lip, knowing that this was a deliberate act of defiance from Mr. Choji. He had suffered Uncle's
insults in silence all morning, holding himself tightly in check. But now he had had enough.

He deliberately turned away from the
Jito
, his head held high.

A spasm of rage passed over Uncle Hidehira's face and I watched in shock as he drew his sword. The long blade flashed upward, then came slicing down across Mr. Choji's body.

W
ith a look of savage triumph, Uncle Hidehira drew his sword back, shook Mr. Choji's blood from the blade, and resheathed it.

Mr. Choji staggered. His face was desperate as he reached for something to steady himself against. His fingers found the edge of the altar and for one horrifying moment I thought that he would knock into the urn of bones and send it crashing to the floor.

The crowd behind us gasped in horror as Mr. Choji toppled forward, eyes glazed. His body hit the floor with a dull thud. The monks looked shocked, but none dared to speak out against the
Jito
.

Rage swelled up inside me as chaos broke out all around. Some of the students rushed to Mr. Choji's side, while the mourners cried out in agony for the disturbed peace of Master Goku's spirit.

“He is heartless,” Hana murmured, her face ashen.

Beside me, Tatsuya's eyes darkened with menace as his gaze shifted from Choji's body to Uncle Hidehira and his right hand went instinctively to the hilt of his sword.

I saw my friend Ko, the kitchen boy, on his knees, cradling Mr. Choji's head. “How could you?” Ko shouted at Uncle. “How could you?”

One of the older boys shouted, “Murder!” as he jostled through the crowded temple in Uncle Hidehira's direction.

There was a whisper of cold steel as Uncle's guards unsheathed their swords. Several of the village mourners cried out and fled the temple.

In two strides Tatsuya covered the distance between himself and Uncle Hidehira, joining the older student with his sword in his hand. At once six of the samurai guards moved into defensive positions around the
Jito
. Their eyes were glittering and watchful.

“You killed him,” Tatsuya said. “Why?”

“Because I am Lord Steward and my word is law,” Uncle Hidehira snarled, his eyes narrowing as he glared at Tatsuya from within his protected circle. “You would do well to remember that your loyalty is bound to me, boy.”

Tatsuya stared at Uncle, and I could see he was torn. Did his loyalty belong to the
Jito
? Or to the Master?

“You may be the
Jito
,” he cried, “but you have shed blood in a holy place. And at the funeral of our Master.”

My spirit soared at his words. Not everyone was willing to bow beneath Uncle's cruelty. A surge of energy flowed through me. Had the time come for me to face my father's murderer? To challenge him honorably in battle? Was I ready for it?

I drew my sword and stepped forward, steeling myself. “Not only that!” I exclaimed, no longer caring that Uncle might recognize me. “You've robbed us of our
new
Master, a man we knew and respected.”

Uncle Hidehira sneered at the sword in my hand. “Those who draw a sword against their
Jito
are traitors,” he said. “Just as your Masters were both traitors.” He glanced at the urn on the altar. “Goku's bones will have the final resting place he deserves—scattered beneath the feet of my conquering army.”

Such an act would mean eternal torment for Goku's soul.

“Goku and Choji were not traitors,” I cried. “They were loyal to the true
Jito
, the honorable Yamamoto no Yoshijiro.”

My rage drove me forward in a sudden lunge, but two of Uncle's samurai guards shoved me back into the knot of boys that had gathered behind Tatsuya and me. I caught a glimpse of Hana, beside me. Her
eyes were full of grim determination.

All around me, students were coming together. Rebellion and defiance rippled through the air. Ko leaped to his feet beside the body of Mr. Choji. “Master Goku was no traitor,” he cried.

“Nor was Mr. Choji,” Sato muttered through gritted teeth.

The time is now,
my soul cried out.
We must have vengeance for the deaths of our father and older brothers
….

I had to get through the samurai to Uncle. I flexed my knees and held my sword in a two-handed grip. The hilt felt smooth and familiar in my hand, the steel perfectly balanced. I fixed my gaze on Uncle Hidehira, vengeance burning in the pit of my belly, and launched my attack.

Hardened warriors used to battle, the samurai disbanded from their protective circle and leaped forward to protect their master.

“Kill the traitors!” shouted Uncle.

Suddenly, all around me, students were battling with Uncle Hidehira's guards.

A blade came slicing down near my head. I deflected it and twisted around to meet another attack. I caught sight of the priest as he darted forward into the fray, his aged face etched with horror. “Stop!” he cried, waving his hands. “Violence is forbidden in this holy place….”

But no one listened. Students pushed past him as they sprang to defend their friends. My samurai enemy fought with determination, but my focus was on getting past him to Uncle. Tatsuya swept into my field of vision, whirling his blade as he fought at my left side. Hana was on my right, her sword glittering.

Although there were fewer than twenty of Uncle's guards, it seemed as though there were hundreds. They moved so fast, fought so skillfully, their blades slicing. But the students worked together against the experienced soldiers, and my heart soared with hope.

Several students hovered in the doorway to the temple, away from the fighting. I recognized two of them as friends of my cousin Ken-ichi, their faces pale with fright, looking as if they might run away at any moment.

They're cowards,
I thought as I twisted around to attack again the samurai I was fighting.

Behind him, I saw Uncle Hidehira calmly slice his sword downward, striking a nearby student across the wrist and severing his hand. The boy cried out and fell to his knees, blood soaking through the sleeve of his kimono, another innocent claimed by Uncle's blade. A second student yelled furiously and leaped at the
Jito
, elbows bent and sword held high. But Uncle Hidehira defended easily, cutting the boy
down with a swift slashing movement. Uncle's speed was breathtaking; his skill comparable with that of my father or Master Goku.

As I fought my way toward him, I wondered if anyone could match him. Was I ready? I wasn't certain, but this was my moment to try. I would avenge my father and brothers, my master and my friends—even if it killed me.

“
Haaiii!
” Another samurai leaped in front of me, baring his teeth as his sword came arcing down toward my shoulder. His red silk
mon
badge was like a slash of blood against his armor.

I kept myself centered as I stepped just out of range of his strike. I moved in to attack, but the samurai recovered. He lunged again. I bent my knees and then powered upward, pushing through my thighs to attack him with my sword, hard and fast. He blocked me and brought his other arm in from the side, grabbing my wrist and pressing hard with his thumb…and suddenly my grip on the hilt was loosened. My sword went clattering to the ground.

I found myself empty-handed and defenseless, and a look of triumph flickered across the samurai's battle-hardened face.

“Weep, child, for you are defeated,” he snarled, and abruptly flung his sword up high.

Death was coming for me and I had not even had a chance to challenge my uncle.

But suddenly something buzzed past my shoulder, skimming my cheek. The samurai let out a shriek of pain. He dropped his sword and clutched at his face. Blood poured down his cheeks as he fell to his knees, still shrieking. Had someone thrown a knife? I glanced at the floor, my gaze attracted by a flash of silver.

It was a steel hairpin that I could see protruding from between the hands of the writhing samurai. I had seen that hairpin only this morning, when Hana had fastened her topknot….

Twisting around fast, I saw that Hana was ten paces away from me. Her hand was poised at shoulder height, from where she had thrown the pin.

Without the hairpin her long hair had come loose, flowing down to her waist like a cloak of rippling black silk. Our eyes locked and sudden realization seemed to lance through Hana's mind. It would be clear to anyone who looked that she was a girl.

For a moment Hana stood motionless. Then she dropped her sword and reached for her long hair, scooping it up, desperately trying to twist its rippling length back into a topknot.

I had to help her before anyone saw!

I grabbed my sword and dashed through the chaos toward my sister. Another samurai reared up in front
of me, snarling like a mad dog. I leaped to the side and pushed all my strength through my right leg to deliver a hard-edged kick to his chest.

The samurai staggered backward and I ran on, ducking beneath a sword on my left, a short spear on my right. Power seemed to hum through my limbs. My ears rang with the clashes of metal around me.

I reached Hana just as a roar ripped the air above our heads.

“Traitor!” shouted my uncle Hidehira.

Breathless, I looked back to see that he had turned around and was pointing at Hana. His face was a mask of rage and triumph. His narrow eyes glittered dangerously.

“Seize that girl!” he bellowed.

S
hock rippled through the temple as monks and samurai looked in the direction Uncle Hidehira was pointing. Several students gaped at Hana's waist-length hair.

“A girl?” someone gasped. “But who is she?”

“Her name is Yamamoto no Hana,” roared Uncle Hidehira. “And she is a traitor!”

I caught a glimpse of Ko, gaping in shock. Beside him, Sato recovered quickly from his surprise. His face broke into a gleeful grin.

Just then, Uncle Hidehira's glance flickered to me. Recognition washed across his hard features, swiftly followed by triumph. “Standing beside Hana is her elder sister, Kimi. They are fugitives; seize them now!”

The priest gasped. “They are the daughters of the old
Jito
!”

Now everyone knew who we were, and the threat we could represent to Uncle.

Hana reached out and touched my fingers gently, gripping her sword in her other hand. Like our older brothers who had perished before us, we would fight to the death rather than be taken by Uncle Hidehira and his men.

The last of the mourners hurried out of the temple at the promise of more bloodshed.

Hana and I stood shoulder to shoulder, weapons raised. A tight formation of Uncle Hidehira's soldiers moved toward us from the front. I slid my right foot back and centered myself. We were ready to face them.

But suddenly more samurai stood ready behind us! I had no time to act defensively before I felt a strong arm wrap around me to pin my arms to my sides, my sword dangling uselessly.

I struggled wildly, bitter frustration pouring through me.

“Keep still,” grunted the samurai who held me captive, and I felt the cold, sharp kiss of a
tanto
dagger at my throat. “One move and I slit your throat.”

My hope faded.

Beside me, Hana was also being held by one of Uncle's men with the tip of a knife pricked beneath her chin. We were doomed.

From the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Tatsuya. He was standing in front of Uncle Hidehira,
legs braced as he held his sword in an attack position—a two-handed grip, elbows high and sword tip pointing to the ceiling. A group of other students and servants were gathered around him like a small army. I saw Ko, his dark eyes fierce. Next to him was Sato. He had snatched up a long-handled brass staff and was holding it like a
jo.

“Your guards are all over there,” Tatsuya said loudly to Uncle, nodding his head in our direction. “Which leaves you alone and outnumbered, Lord Steward.”

I saw Hana watching Tatsuya with admiration. I felt proud that he was our friend.

“Do you think you are better than me, little boy? Attack me if you dare,” Uncle Hidehira said coldly. He swept the assembled students with a piercing glare. “Which of you will be first to die on my blade?”

A few of the students cast doubtful looks at one another, but Tatsuya, Ko, and Sato held their positions.

Uncle Hidehira sneered. “Traitors,” he said. “Death is coming for you…and you…and you…” The students flinched as he jabbed his sword at each of them in turn. “If you survive today you'll be executed for daring to attack your lord. Do you want to heap that shame upon your families?”

There was a moment's hesitation. One of the students met my gaze and looked away in shame. Then
they lowered their weapons and backed away, their bravado gone.

“Get out of my sight,” Uncle Hidehira snarled and sheathed his sword. The students fled, but Tatsuya, Ko, and Sato did not move.

I watched the others disappear through the doorway of the temple, my heart aching. But I couldn't blame them for running away. It was no easy thing to rebel against a
Jito
.

Uncle Hidehira stood motionless, his right hand resting dangerously on his sword hilt, ready to draw in the blink of an eye. He stared at Tatsuya, daring him to attack. Our friend gazed back at him coolly. I knew that if Hana and I were to have any chance, we had to break free now, while Uncle's attention was on Tatsuya.

I glanced at Hana. She gave a sharp nod. Hana let out a yell and twisted free from her captor. Immediately I jabbed my elbow straight into the gut of the soldier who was holding me. As he bent double with pain, I reached up and seized the arm he was using to hold me. With a sharp, swift movement, I stepped backward and then wielded his arm like a sword, using his own weight to throw him into another samurai who had realized what I was doing and was leaping forward to attack.

“Don't let them escape, you fools!” bellowed
Uncle Hidehira furiously.

Tatsuya, Ko, and Sato cast us startled glances, but almost immediately Ko leaped across the room with a wild yell. He unleashed a fierce side kick that took the nearest samurai by surprise and sent him flying.

“Run,” Sato yelled at Hana and me as he fought two samurai at once. “Run, both of you, while you have the chance.”

Uncle Hidehira let out a terrifying battle cry and slashed his sword at Tatsuya, who evaded him with a swift twist away. Tatsuya swept his own blade upward and brought it down in a hard diagonal slice. There was a clash of steel on steel as Uncle Hidehira blocked him.

“Run!” Tatsuya yelled, twisting away from Uncle Hidehira for a moment. “Now!”

I hesitated, torn between the need to escape and the need to stay and fight with my friends. But the thought of Uncle's samurai riding to Mount Fuji to capture my mother pulled me away.

Hana seized my arm. “Come on,” she cried. We thrust our swords back into our scabbards and together we ducked under the clawing hands of Uncle's samurai, racing across the temple. As we passed the altar, I caught sight of the urn, wrapped in white cloth. My heart ached at the thought of Master Goku's bones being crushed beneath the feet of
Uncle Hidehira's army. I couldn't leave the sensei's remains there.

My hand shot out and I grabbed the urn. Cradling it in my arm, I raced with Hana to the doorway of the temple. Outside, we took the steps at a flying run, dashing past horror-struck monks. The sun was in our eyes and Hana flung up one hand, dazzled.

A shout went up behind us. “After the girls!” Uncle Hidehira roared.

“This way,” I said, praying that Tatsuya wouldn't fall by my uncle's hand. I hurtled across the gravel path, scrabbling to sheathe my sword one-handed as I headed for the forest. Hana was at my heels. Tiny stones crunched beneath our feet. Shadows closed around us as the trees blocked out the sunshine.

I could hear a group of samurai crashing after us as we plunged through the undergrowth. We varied our course—moving left, then right, then left again. I gripped the urn tightly in the curve of my arm, my hand wrapped around it. My sword in its scabbard beat against my leg.

Behind us, Uncle Hidehira bellowed like an angry bull. He must have come out of the temple to stand at the top of the steps because his voice now echoed loudly through the forest. “Bring them down,” he yelled, “but do not kill them. Bring them back to me alive.”

Why does Uncle want us alive?
I wondered, and instantly knew that it was so he could have the satisfaction of killing us himself
.

“Run faster, Kimi,” Hana urged breathlessly.

She grabbed my hand and held it tight. Together we leaped over tangled undergrowth and darted around trees. Branches whipped at our faces. Coarse grass slashed our feet. As we went deeper into the heart of the forest, shadows loomed on either side and the scent of pine was strong.

Uncle's voice faded, but his samurai were so close behind us that I could hear the banging of their armor and weapons. How many of them were there—six, ten? Hoarse voices shouted commands: “Over there!” and “Split up…go left.”

Hana and I went right, curving away from the samurai. I could hear them crashing away to our left. Dead branches snapped loudly under their sandals.

But we were getting away! We broke out of the trees and into a clearing on the hillside, a grassy glade dappled with sunlight.

My breath rasped hot in my chest and my mind plunged this way and that. What should we do—keep going? Or try to hide and pray that the samurai kept on going, chasing shadows through the forest?

Insects buzzed in the still air. A dead branch snapped behind us, too close, and I knew then that
someone was coming. Fear lanced through me.

“There's nowhere to hide,” I whispered to Hana.

“We must go on,” she whispered back, a determined look on her face. “We can't let them capture us, Kimi, or there will be no one to warn Mother and Moriyasu about Uncle's trap.”

If we didn't get to Mount Fuji, all hope would be lost. I clutched the urn tighter. It was so bulky. As we launched ourselves across the clearing, I risked a glance back over my shoulder. One of Uncle Hidehira's samurai soldiers was rushing up behind us, his face as hard as steel, his dark eyes full of murder.

“No,” I yelped, and plunged forward, grabbing Hana and taking her with me.

We hurtled across the glade toward a weeping willow tree on the far side. Beyond its drooping branches, I could see an open pathway, snaking through the trees, heading down the hillside. Hana and I could run fast, maybe even outrun the samurai in his heavy armor.

But just as hope began to soar, I caught a glimpse of something large and dark breaking from the shadows to my left. A second samurai! And there a third!

Quickly Hana and I veered right, away from them. At once, another soldier came racing in toward us from that side, too. We were pinned on three sides….

I curved back to the left, dragging my sister along with me. I fixed my gaze on the willow tree and the promise of that clear path. We had to get there. We must! We had one last chance—get beyond the willow and run for our lives.

But up ahead, two more samurai stepped out from behind the drooping branches of the willow. The long curving horns on their iron helmets caught a shaft of sunlight that slanted down through the trees as they barred the way.

We stopped running then, trapped, outnumbered. I could hear the six samurai breathing hard, and the creak of their leather armor as they moved in closer. Closer…closer…so close I could smell them—their sweat, the stinking grease they used under their armor to keep lice at bay.

I let the urn in its white cloth wrapping slip down my body, rolling it gently until it rested in the long grass at my feet. Six pairs of samurai eyes were fixed on my face.

“No tricks, girl,” muttered their leader. “Give yourself up quietly, and the
Jito
may show you mercy….”

“The
Jito
knows no mercy,” I replied, stepping forward away from the urn. Hana and I unsheathed our swords in the same breath.

Steel whispered in the clean bright air as we took a firm stance. We held our weapons ready. Hana shook
her long hair back. Her face was determined.

My heart slowed and I felt power humming through my limbs.

There was a moment of silence. Peace seemed to settle on the grassy glade. Then all six samurai were upon us, yelling wildly, whirling their swords around their heads as they unleashed a storming attack. Sunlight flashed on steel as I deflected first one blow and then the next. Beside me Hana knocked away a third.

I sliced my sword wide to the right and brought it back fast, dancing on the tips of my toes as I slashed upward, then down, meeting an attacking blade with every movement. My heart raced.

“Haaiii!”
The fearsome yells of the six samurai filled our ears as the men attacked.

One of the samurai swept low with his sword, aiming for my ankles. I leaped up over his blade, slashing my own
nihonto
across his stomach. The resistance of his hard leather armor saved his life, but my sword sliced a deep gash in it. I caught a glimpse of red blood, and hope flashed through me. But there was no time for triumph because the samurai came right back at me, eyes flashing like a demon. Our blades crossed and twisted as I put up a high block.

From the corner of my eye I glimpsed Hana, buckling under the onslaught of two samurai blades, and I
knew the situation was turning against us. We would be captured and taken to Uncle—and he would dispatch us both, grinning with triumph.

As my thoughts distracted me, the samurai I was fighting ducked under my attack and rushed, grabbing me by the neck. I couldn't breathe. Blood roared in my ears and black spots danced across my vision.

Mother!
I cried silently, my heart aching, for there would be no one to warn her now.

Suddenly a loud battle cry tore the air and something flashed near my head.

An arrow! It buried itself in a narrow gap in the samurai's armor, where shoulder guard met breastplate.

Releasing his grip on my throat, the samurai howled and staggered backward. Without hesitation, I recovered my balance and plunged my sword quickly into the slit I had already made in his armor, opening his stomach with a spurt of blood.

As the samurai fell to the ground, I swung around to see where the arrow had come from.