The Samurai's Assassin Read online

  CONTENTS

  INTRODUCTION ~ The Hall of Heroes

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  ~ Seppuku

  CHAPTER 3

  ~ Samurai Weapons

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  ~ Ordinary Life in Medieval Japan

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  ~ The Way of the Warrior

  CHAPTER 8

  ~ Japanese Castles

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  The Hall of Heroes is a museum all about warriors throughout history. It’s full of swords, bows and arrows, helmets, boats, armour, shields, spears, axes and just about anything else that a warrior might need. But this isn’t just another museum full of old stuff in glass cases – it’s also haunted by the ghosts of the warriors whose belongings are there. Our great grandfather, Professor Blade, set up the museum and when he died he started haunting the place too. He felt guilty about the trapped ghost warriors and vowed he would not rest in peace until all the other ghosts were laid to rest first. And that’s where Arthur and I come in…

  On the night of the Professor’s funeral Arthur and I broke into the museum – we knew it was wrong but we just couldn’t help ourselves. And that’s when we discovered something very weird. When we are touched by one of the ghost warriors we get transported to the time and place where the ghost lived and died. And we can’t get back until we’ve fixed whatever it is that keeps the ghost from resting in peace. So we go from one mission to the next, recovering lost swords, avenging deaths, saving loved ones or doing whatever else the ghost warrior needs us to do.

  Fortunately while the Professor was alive I wrote down everything he ever told us about these warriors in a book I call Warrior Heroes – so luckily we do have some idea of what we’re getting into each time – even if Arthur does still call me ‘Finn the geek’. But we need more than a book to survive each adventure because wherever we go we’re surrounded by war and battle and the fiercest fighters who ever lived, as you’re about to find out!

  CHAPTER 1

  Finn drifted lazily towards consciousness, dreaming that he was leaping to impossible heights and then rushing back down to earth, only to leap even higher into the air once more. He licked his lips and tasted brine, noting that heavy rain was pelting his back as he took another giant leap skywards. It was just as he reached the highest point of the arc and hung there for a moment, waiting for the fall that he woke with a jolt.

  A huge wave rolled forward and Finn swooped down the back of it, slipping off a plank of wood that he had been half-lying on and gulping down a mouthful of sea water as he shouted out in panic. Spluttering, he kicked and hoisted himself back onto the tiny float, at the same time trying to blink and shake the water out of his eyes before the next wave began to lift him up again. As he reached the top of the wave he twisted around, praying he would see some way out of this nightmare that he had swapped for the Professor’s study. He felt marginally better when he saw that the waves were surging towards land and that he was in the middle of a small bay.

  Finn pulled himself further forward on the plank, as if he were lying on a surfboard, and as he rose with the next wave he pushed himself up on his arms to get a better view. He could see very little of the shoreline through the torrent of rain, but what he did see turned his stomach and the feeling of relief he had felt just moments ago quickly evaporated. The huge rollers were breaking over a line of jagged rocks that stuck up out of the sea like teeth, and he was heading straight for them.

  Struggling against the powerful current, Finn slid the plank around, away from the jagged rocks. He began kicking towards the open sea, but for every small bit of progress he made, the next wave carried him back towards the shore. Shaking with fear, Finn turned again to face the rocks. All he could do was hope that a wave carried him over the top instead of smashing him to pieces against the vicious-looking spikes. There was one spot where the gap between the tips of the rocks seemed to be wide enough that he might just get through, but he had no idea what lay beneath the water. Using what little energy he had left, Finn turned side-on to the waves and tried to line up with the gap as the rocks grew closer and bigger.

  Three more waves and he would be on them. The first wave drew him forward and then rolled past, crashing violently against the rocks. The second wave pushed him on and then sucked him unexpectedly to the side so that he was barely in line with the gap any more. Frantically he tried to shimmy back to his original position, and then the third wave picked him up and began to curl over him. He kicked forward, his whole body taut as he gripped the plank with all his might. The wave surged and began to break. Finn tried to block out the sight of the rocks to either side of him as he accelerated with the wave and began to hurtle down towards the foaming, flatter water below. As he hit the foam his plank was torn from his grasp and he had a split second to catch a lungful of air before the wave swallowed him and tumbled him over and over in dizzying somersaults.

  He felt something against his feet and kicked down onto sand before he was upended by the next churning wave. The next time his feet hit the ground he staggered forward, still up to his chest in the frothing surf. He heard a shout and then a coil of rope splashed into the sea in front of him. Finn leapt towards it and grabbed hold just as the next wave ripped him off his feet again and sent him spinning. Suddenly the rope was being pulled back and Finn floated on the water, breathing in huge gulps of air, holding tight and letting the waves wash over him as he was reeled in towards the beach.

  He staggered out of the water and collapsed coughing onto the sand, seawater streaming from his nose and mouth. As he rolled over and looked up through sheets of pouring rain, he found himself staring into the concerned faces of a boy and a girl, and wondered for the first time where he was.

  “You must come with us,” said the boy, bowing at the same time. “The typhoon is getting worse. We saw the ship sink and you are very lucky to survive. Welcome to Japan.”

  “Thank you,” Finn began. “But my brother…”

  “There are no more people in the sea. We can talk later,” said the girl, also bowing. “First you must come with us out of the rain.”

  They helped Finn to his feet and each holding one of his arms they began to lead him away from the beach towards a line of trees. He had never felt so wet in his life. The hot, heavy air pushed and sucked rain in all directions. This was rain he’d never experienced before. It was a challenge to even breathe without inhaling water.

  He always felt disorientated at first after travelling back in time, but as the adrenalin rush brought on by his narrow escape began to subside, Finn cast his mind back to the Professor’s study…

  * * *

  “So boys, what can you tell me about the samurai?” It seemed to Finn that there was something unusual in the Professor’s tone as he paced around the study. Something like sadness.

  “Total psychopaths!” Arthur exclaimed. “Amazing swordsmen who could take on huge numbers of ordinary men all by themselves and kill all of them. Oh, and ritual suicide – seppuku. They’d slit their own bellies open rather than face dishonour.”

  The Professor considered Arthur for a moment and then remarked, “The greatest samurai swordsmen in medieval Japan went their whole lives without ever killing anyone.”

  “What?” said Arthur, frowning. “How could they have been great warriors if they never fought?”

  Finn smiled to himself. Arthur was always so hot-headed. The idea of a warrior fighting and winning without killing must have seemed ridiculous to him.

  “They believed that defeating an opponent was about winning a mental battle,” the Professor explained. “Dissuade him from figh
ting by convincing him he would lose. And if you do start fighting, convince him he is going to lose and force his surrender. But that wouldn’t make for enough action in one of your Samurai movies, eh Arthur?”

  “Self-control,” Finn joined in. “Weren’t the samurai all about self-control and discipline?”

  “That’s right old chap,” said the Professor. “The best samurai were completely in control of their minds, bodies and emotions. Mind you,” he went on. “Not all of them reached such high standards. But the best of them were finer warriors than have been seen anywhere else in the world.”

  There it was again, thought Finn. The Professor seemed sad. No, not sad… nostalgic.

  “The man you are about to meet was a truly great samurai. Hanzo Uchida, a swordsman of exquisite skill that he very rarely used. If ever there were a warrior who deserved to rest in peace it is this man…”

  The Professor trailed off and Finn caught Arthur’s eye. There was definitely something weird in the way the Professor was talking about this warrior ghost. But before either boy could ask any questions they both noticed the atmospheric changes that always preceded a ghost’s entrance. The air cooled rapidly and seemed to grow stiller just as the lights in the study cut out abruptly and the group were plunged into darkness.

  The boys peered through the blackness and waited for the sound of footsteps, or the study door creaking open. But nothing came.

  “Old friend,” said the Professor. “How often I have thought of you.”

  “He’s not here yet,” Arthur hissed, and then drew in his breath as the Professor lit a candle and a shadowy form stepped silently forward into the thin circle of light. He wore loose cotton trousers and a kimono jacket that was strapped tightly around the waist. His whole torso was stained red with blood.

  “Many years have passed, Blade,” said the samurai softly. “And now you may be able to help me.”

  “It would be an honour, Hanzo Uchida,” replied the Professor, “Though it will be the boys here who do the work.”

  Hanzo Uchida looked intently at the two boys and bowed to each in turn. “A man lives on through his descendants,” he said. “And I see that these boys carry your spirit.” There was something in Hanzo Uchida’s eyes that Finn had never seen before. They were perfectly still, perfectly focussed.

  “How can we help?” Finn asked, entranced.

  “It is very simple.” Hanzo Uchida replied. “I allowed myself to be killed by a tyrant in the hope that he would spare the others who lived in the area. The tyrant’s name was Kenji Kuroda.”

  “Let me guess,” said Arthur. “He didn’t spare them?

  “At first yes, but a few days later he massacred them all,” said Hanzo Uchida evenly. “Because my son Tatsushi tried to kill him.” The samurai’s eyes seemed to cloud over for a fraction of a second before their clarity was back. “The boy wanted to avenge my death but he acted rashly. Not with the restraint that befits a samurai.”

  “So you want us to stop your son avenging your death?” Arthur seemed confused.

  “Not necessarily,” Hanzo Uchida stared at Arthur intently. “You must ensure that the boy thinks before he acts. He must think about the lives of the other villagers. And if he wishes to avenge my death he must do so in a careful way that may succeed, not in a blood-rage.” Arthur swallowed nervously as Hanzo Uchida continued steadily. “I can see that the two of you together embody instinct and caution. Work together and guide my son.”

  Before Finn could ask the Professor why he had called the samurai an old friend, Hanzo Uchida stepped silently forward and placed a hand lightly on each boy’s shoulder. The air in the room seemed to circle around them, faster and faster, until the study had vanished and the boys were spinning through darkness towards a sound like that of violent waves crashing against rocks.

  CHAPTER 2

  Finn gasped with relief as he staggered into the wooden building and collapsed to the floor. After the beating the ocean had dealt him, and the deluge of rain, the cool, dry room felt like paradise. His delight increased further when his rescuers slid back a screen to reveal his brother sitting comfortably on the floor and eating what seemed to be a large ball of rice with his hands.

  “Knew they’d find you!” spluttered Arthur cheerfully through a mouthful of rice. “Come and get some food. It’s simple stuff but really hits the spot. Tatsushi! Mayuko! You are both heroes!”

  “How did you get here?” Finn asked, slightly irritated by his brother’s chirpy state.

  “Swam,” said Arthur, looking over Finn’s shoulder at their hosts and then back to Finn with his eyebrows raised. Finn kicked himself. They always had to be careful what they said about how they arrived in a new place. They couldn’t end up having to explain that time travel was involved.

  “I fear there are no other survivors,” said the boy. “My sister Mayuko saw the ship go down a few hours ago and we thought nobody could have survived – it sank so quickly. But you boys are here. You are brave and fortunate and you will be welcome at my father’s house for as long as you need to stay.”

  Finn closed his eyes for a moment. It was desperately sad to think that if these were Hanzo Uchida’s children, and it seemed almost certain that they were, then at some point soon their lives were going to fall apart.

  “You are very kind,” said Finn. “I hope that we can find a way to repay you for what you have done today.”

  Tatsushi bowed his head slightly, turned away and slipped into a whispered conversation with his sister. Finn studied the pair while Arthur went back to his rice. It was impossible to guess their age, except to say that they seemed older than Arthur but not yet adult. Both wore simple kimonos and had jet-black hair. Tatsushi was no taller than Arthur but his broad frame indicated great strength. His sister had slightly paler skin and softer eyes, and although she had said very little, Finn got the impression that she made the decisions – Tatsushi did most of the talking but he often glanced at her before speaking. It was very difficult to imagine these quiet, controlled people losing their cool, whatever the provocation.

  “Excuse me,” said Mayuko, “May we ask your names?”

  “Blade,” said Arthur, jabbing a finger in Finn’s direction. “He’s Finn. I’m Arthur.”

  “Blade!” Tatsushi exclaimed, his eyes widening. “Do you know my father’s friend, the great warrior William Blade?”

  “He’s our…” Finn trailed off, remembering how the Professor and Hanzo Uchida had spoken to each other. “We are related, yes.”

  “Then you will be even more welcome at my father’s house!” cried Tatsushi, hopping around excitedly. “Come, Mayuko, let’s find the Blades some clothes and we can get back to father.”

  Once their rescuers had left the room Finn turned to Arthur and whispered, “There’s only one way they could know the Professor…”

  “He must have been here himself.” Arthur finished the thought.

  The boys sat in silence, pondering this new twist on their adventure. They had always believed that they were unique in their ghost-driven time travel. Now it seemed they were not alone. But if the Professor had been here before and somehow helped Hanzo Uchida, what did that mean for their mission? Before they could explore the possibilities, Tatsushi reappeared, sliding the screen closed behind him and presenting them each with a neat pile of clothes to replace the torn, sodden rags that the ocean had left plastered to their skin.

  They slipped into the loose, cotton trousers and kimono-style jackets, fumbling in their attempts to fasten the unfamiliar belts. Tatsushi stepped forward and wrapped the fabric around their waists for them.

  “My father says that William Blade was the same,” said Tatsushi, laughing. “When he came here he too found everything very strange. But people found him strange also – nobody had ever seen a man from outside of Japan before. He was so tall, and had such a big face! People wanted to turn him away but luckily my father is a very wise man and – ”

  “We should go,” called Mayu
ko through the screen, cutting Tatsushi off mid-sentence. “Are you ready?”

  The oppressive rain still bore down outside and Mayuko handed around wooden-framed umbrellas as they stepped out of the hut and began walking further inland.

  “So how did William Blade come to be friends with your father?” Finn asked as they climbed steadily through the trees to higher ground.

  Tatsushi explained that many years ago William washed up ashore from a wreck just as the boys had done, and was rescued by their father who was on his way with a small group of samurai to join an army being mustered to help their overlord, Lord Kuruyama, fight a rival lord. William had accompanied them and had been met with great suspicion by almost everyone, but had eventually won them around and helped them to win a great victory.

  “What was the rival Lord’s name?” Arthur asked.

  “Yosuke Kuroda,” Tatsushi replied with a deep frown. “He was killed in battle, but now all these years later his son, Kenji Kuroda, is preparing an army.”

  “My father says that if Kenji Kuroda and his family grow too strong then we will all suffer greatly,” said Mayuko softly.

  “Are you afraid?” asked Finn.

  “We are not afraid of him,” she replied. “But we do not wish people to suffer and we will do what must be done.”

  Looking at the softly-spoken girl Finn found himself gazing into dark, still eyes. Just like Hanzo Uchida, he thought sadly.

  “Some people might be angry with Kenji Kuroda,” Finn commented. “For preparing an army and trying to seize power. But you don’t seem angry.”

  “The true samurai controls their emotions. This is what our father has taught us. Anger is weakness. Cruelty is weakness. Strength is preparing your mind and body so that you can see what needs to be done and can do it properly.”

  Both Finn and Arthur found themselves profoundly struck by the girl’s words and they continued in silence for a while, thinking carefully about what she had said. The trees had disappeared now and the rain had stopped. They were walking along a road with fields on either side, and some distance away they could see a cluster of houses. Tatsushi began urging them on, delighted all over again at the prospect of introducing his new friends to his father.