Читать книгу Jet Black and the Ninja Wind - Leza Lowitz - Страница 14

CHAPTER 5

故郷 Kokyo

Homeland

In her dreams, Jet could vanish through a wall of smoke and climb the highest castle moat, but she still had to fly to Japan on an airplane like everyone else. Excitement tingled in her veins.

When she landed in Narita, no one was there to meet her. She slid into the crowds of dark-haired, dark-eyed people, happy for once to be invisible. She’d always stood out. Now she’d blend right in.

Surprisingly, she relaxed in Tokyo’s crowds, its streets as large as dragons’ tails, its silver trains carrying men in dark suits swiftly into glass buildings, women in fancy clothing shimmering like fireflies of many colors. Everyone and everything moved quickly. To where? To what? Why?

After a restless night’s sleep at a business hotel and a dinner at the rotary sushi, she headed north to Morioka, an old castle town at the confluence of three rivers a hundred miles north from Tokyo. From there, she still had to catch a train to Aomori, the northernmost city of Honshu in the center of Mutsu Bay, nestled between the Tsugaru and Shimokita peninsulas.

Emboldened by a sense of purpose, Jet kept her senses alert and her eyes open, eager for her mission to begin. She managed to catch the Tohoku local, grabbing a quick lunch of wanko-soba—a local delicacy of thin flat buckwheat noodles—at a stand on the platform.

Satoko had spoken of the mountains as majestic as temples, the rivers where ancient trees bowed across old bridges, the rustic wooden houses where women moved freely in the front rooms instead of hiding on bended knee behind. But from the train window, Jet was disappointed to see the farmhouses covered with brown aluminum siding. Where was the old Japan?

She felt a little closer to it as she began to climb Mt. Hakkoda, following Satoko’s directions. It had been almost eighteen years since her mother had ventured there. Why hadn’t she returned? The question gnawed at Jet. She hoped she’d soon learn the answer.

The smell of the forest grew stronger as she climbed the mountain path. Jet looked at the map her mother had given her:

日本青森県十和田市金部村

Kanabe Village, Towada City, Aomori Prefecture, JAPAN

A twig snapped. Jet stared ahead, afraid to turn around. Was she being followed? The village lay at the bottom of the valley, north of Mt. Hakkoda, a mile away. It was getting dark and cold. She started to shiver.

She sensed a presence, but she forced herself to keep walking, listening. From the faint distant rhythm of breathing, she could tell that one of her followers was human and the other animal. Both were timing their movements with the sound of the wind. When the wind blew, they walked. When the wind stopped, they stopped and held their breath so the bamboo leaves wouldn’t rustle around them. It was an excellent technique—fu no kata—moving like the wind. She was surprised to remember the name.

Suddenly, fear knifed through her. She didn’t want her followers to know she’d caught on to their presence.

She bit back her fear and kept climbing through the beech, their thin gray trunks covered with bamboo grass. She made out the sound of falling water ahead. Her pursuers had stopped. They were probably listening to her footsteps to see which way she was heading.

Well, I’ll throw them a bone, she thought.

A twenty-foot high waterfall appeared through the trees. On both sides were cliffs covered with deep green moss. She stopped and considered what to do.

She picked up a handful of stones and threw them into the bushes next to her. A flurry of mountain birds shot from the foliage.

At that exact moment, she made herself disappear.

The sudden flapping of wings broke the boy’s concentration.

“Aska, let’s go!” he called to his dog. “She’ll get away!”

Hiro was twelve, with black bangs that covered his forehead like a curtain. His sharp features made him look intelligent and alert. Wearing well-worn country clothes, he moved confidently and swiftly, even though he was small for his age.

Aska, his large, light-brown Akita dog, rushed after the scent. Hiro ran, too, stepping into every footprint the girl had left to soften the sound of his movements. Just before the waterfall, he ducked into the ferns. He smelled the air and listened. A well-trained warrior could sense where his enemy was hiding, even when there was a breeze.

He worried that a single breath, his own, would break the silence. If that happened, he could be caught. He made up his mind: he had to corner her first.

The sound of cascading water grew louder. He concentrated. Across the river, a branch of red nandin nuts swayed. Was a breeze blowing there?

Then he noticed something blue in the leaves–the girl’s backpack. Focusing even more deeply, he sensed a living presence behind it. He felt it and heard it: fluttering, a faint heartbeat. With a smile of victory, he picked up a small stone and threw it to the other side of the waterfall. It hit the nandin branch, but the backpack didn’t move.

He picked up a thick branch and ran toward the river. Just before reaching it, he threw the branch ahead of him, onto the water. He jumped and before touching the surface, kicked his foot against the floating wood, using it to propel himself to the opposite bank. There was just one spot of water on the tip of his right shoe. His dog followed, leaping as if flying.

He climbed into the tree, toward the backpack, but as soon as he got onto the branch, it broke. He barely managed to land on his feet.

Laughter rang out behind him. He spun. A long-legged half-Japanese girl with black hair almost down to her waist was watching him. She had soft roasted-tea skin and deep, black eyes. Though she was pretty enough to be a movie star, she wasn’t delicate. More like a tomboy. She seemed tough, and driven.

“At least you could try not to laugh,” he shouted in his thick Tohoku accent.

“Sorry. I couldn’t help it.” Jet wasn’t laughing at him, but because her ruse had worked and because she was relieved that she was only being followed by a boy and his dog. Then her tone softened. “Does your dog bite?”

“Only if I tell her to.”

She sighed, relieved. So he understood my Japanese.

“Or if she senses danger,” the boy added threateningly.

“Good, just like me,” Jet said, smiling. She opened her backpack and a brown bird flew out.

“Thank you! Sayonara!” she called out after the bird.

“That was a lure? You tricked me!?” The boy seemed amazed.

Jet tried to conceal a smile. “Yeah, I guess I did. Sorry about that!”

“Sure you are. But this is still our mountain,” he said angrily.

“I never said it wasn’t,” she shot back.

“Right, you’re just like the others. Your people came from the dump last week and tried to get Ojiisan to let them use the mountain for landfill. They offered him lots of money. It’s a good thing he didn’t kick their butts!”

“Whoa, slow down a minute. I didn’t say anything…” Jet stammered.

“Good, because if you did, you’d be lying. They said it would be good for the mountain because it would just be ashes and fertilizer. But the ashes contain poisons, like dioxin. I know all about it.”

She held up her palm. “I can understand why you’re mad. But I don’t work at the dump. My mother was born in these mountains. I came here to meet my grandfather.”

“Your grandfather?” His eyes brightened, then narrowed to slits.

Jet nodded. “Uh huh.”

“Okay, if that’s true, what’s his name?”

She opened the suitcase and took out the wrinkled map. “Masakichi Kuroi.” she said, sounding out each word.

The color drained from the boy’s face.

“No way! Could you be…. Are you…Rika? I can’t believe it. You came!”

Jet allowed herself a smile. “My friends call me Jet. And you would be…?

“Hiro. Wow! I mean,” the boy switched to perfect English and paused, as if collecting his thoughts. “I thought you would look different… I mean, I thought you’d have dark skin, or blue eyes, like Ojiisan. I can’t believe it. You came!”

“Wait a minute,” Jet said. “Ojiisan has blue eyes?” She switched to English, too, wondering why her mom hadn’t told her about that.

“Yeah. Many people have blue eyes here. We’re different from the Wa.” Hiro glanced around. “Hey, did anyone know you were coming?”

Jet turned around, too. “No. Why?”

“Good. We should hurry then,” he said excitedly.

The dog at his side barked, looking up at Jet expectantly.

“Oh, I almost forgot. This is Aska.” He ran his hand over the dog’s fur. At his command, Aska slowly approached Jet, who reached out to pet her.

“Wait! Please don’t move,” Hiro said. Aska sniffed her feet and went back to Hiro’s left side.

“Now it’s safe.” His face registered relief. “She has to smell you and record the scent for later. That’s her enemy check routine.”

“Oh,” Jet said, wondering how often the boy and his dog had to check for enemies.

“It’s getting dark,” Hiro told her. “We’d better get going! You can’t imagine how long I’ve been waiting for you. I’ve been hearing stories about you and your mother since I was little.”

Before she could ask what kind of stories, or even express surprise that he’d known she existed, the boy and his dog took off along the mountain path.

She had to follow them, or she’d be lost.

“Hurry!” he called out. “We should tell Ojiisan right away.”

Jet jogged behind him. As they emerged from the bamboo grove, the Ou Mountain range came into sight, peaked and majestic.

“There’s our village,” Hiro told her. “Come on! Hayaku! Faster!”

In the distance, flanked by the mountain and a river, was a cluster of old thatch-roof houses leaning into each other like people huddled in a circle. On either side stood sheer cliffs like hands lifted in prayer. A white mist hung over the valley like an ancient scroll painting. There was something otherworldly about the scene and Jet was unnerved. It was too quiet, too calm. Where were all the people?

But then Jet remembered her promise to Satoko, and the box from J-Bird. She stopped and knelt on the ground, taking the small box from her pack and clasping it to her heart.

“Mom,” she whispered to her mother’s ashes, “we made it to Kanabe. You’re finally home.”