The leader of the Momochi clan had turned into a bird!
The huge black hawk soared above the valley, cutting through the moonlight and slowly descending.
Masa was brought round by a slap on his shoulder.
‘Now we have to act quickly,’ said Tanshin. ‘Before they can recover their wits.’
Midori-san and the master were already clambering through a hatch on to the roof. He had to catch up with them.
Tiles grated under his feet and a fresh wind blew into his face. Masa turned towards the precipice for another glimpse of the magical bird, but it wasn’t there any more – it had flown away.
They crawled the last few steps on their stomachs so that the Black Jackets in the cordon wouldn’t see them.
They needn’t have been so cautious – the torches were burning in the clearing, but the sentries had disappeared.
‘Where are they?’ Masa asked in a whisper.
He guessed the answer himself: they had all gone dashing into the house. But of course! The commander had been killed, the head ninja had turned into a hawk. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he would never have believed it.
There was no cordon, but what good was that to them? If they jumped down, they’d break their legs, it was four ken [xxiv]
here. But Midori-san waved her hand just before the ridge of the roof and a gentle ringing sound filled the emptiness. A thin, transparent cable was stretched from the house out into the darkness. Midori-san took off her belt and threw it over the cable, tied a knot and showed the master how to put his elbows through it. But she herself managed without a strap – she just took hold with her hands, pushed off and soared over the clearing in a single sweep. The master didn’t waste any time either: he took a firm hold of the belt and flew off, setting the air rustling.
It was Masa’s turn. Tanshin prepared the strap for him in a second and pushed him in the back.
Rushing through space above the brightly lit clearing and the blazing flames was scary but enjoyable. Masa barely managed to stop himself whooping in delight.
The flight could have ended better, though. The trunk of a pine tree came flying towards him out of the darkness and if the master hadn’t grabbed his servant by the arms, Masa would have been flattened. As it was, he hit his forehead hard enough to set sparks flying.
There was a small wooden platform attached to the tree, and he had to climb down from it by feeling for branches with his foot.
As soon as he jumped down on to the ground, Masa saw that Tanshin had stayed on the roof – from here, on the other side of the clearing, his black silhouette was clearly visible.
There was a glint of steel, and something rustled in the air. Midori-san picked up the transparent rope and pulled it towards herself.
‘Why did he cut the cable?’ Masa exclaimed.
‘They’ll climb up on the roof, see the cable and guess everything,’ the mistress replied briefly. ‘And Tanshin will jump down.’
As soon as she said it, men climbed out on to the roof from below, a lot of men. They saw the shinobi poised on the very edge, started clamouring and ran towards him.
But Tanshin huddled down, jumped up, turned over in the air, and a moment later he was down below. He rolled across the ground like a ball and jumped to his feet.
But they were already running towards him out of the house.
‘Quickly! Quickly!’ Masa whispered, squeezing his fists tight.
The ninja reached the middle of the clearing in a few bounds, but he didn’t run into the forest – he stopped.
He doesn’t want to lead his pursuers to us, Masa guessed.
Tanshin pulled a torch out of the ground, then another, and rushed at his enemies. The Black Jackets first recoiled from the two furiously swirling tongues of flame, but then immediately closed back round the shinobi.
Someone’s clothing burst into flames and someone else ran off howling, trying to beat the flames off their burning hair. The fire swirled about above the crowd, stinging, scattering sparks.
They had to get away from there as quickly as possible, but Masa was still watching the beautiful way Tanshin was dying. A fiery death framed in glittering sword blades – could anything possibly be more beautiful?
The master pulled Midori-san into the thicket and pointed in the direction of the crevice – he must be pointing towards the hoist.
Masa had to explain to the bird-man’s daughter that they couldn’t get away through the underground passage. The Monk must have left sentries at the bottom of the crevice: they wouldn’t let anyone get down – they’d shoot them.
‘Better to sit it out here, in the forest,’ Masa concluded.
But Midori-san didn’t agree with him.
‘No. The Black Jackets have let my father get away, and now they have to find your master at any cost. They won’t dare report to the Don without his head. When they finish searching the house, they’ll start combing the forest again.’
‘What can we do?’
The mistress was going to answer, but then the master butted into this important conversation at just the wrong moment.
He pulled Masa aside and said in his broken Japanese:
‘Lead away, Midori-san. You. Trust. I here.’
Oh no! Masa didn’t even listen. He objected gruffly:
‘How can I lead her away? I’m not Tamba, I can’t fly through the sky.’
He flapped his arms like wings to demonstrate but the master, of course, didn’t understand. How could Masa possibly explain anything to him when he had no language?
The Black Jackets flocked round Tanshin’s body, arguing about something in loud voices. Many of them had been killed, including the commander, but there were even more left. Thirty men? Forty?
Masa had always been good at mental arithmetic, and he started counting.
The master had seven bullets in his little revolver. Masa could kill three. Or four – if he was lucky. Midori-san was a ninja – she’d probably polish off ten.
How many did that make?
Midori-san prevented him from finishing his calculation.
‘Wait here,’ she said. ‘My father will come back for you.’
‘Are you really going away, mistress?’
She didn’t answer and turned to the master.
He also asked something in a tense, halting voice.
She didn’t answer him either. At least, not in words.
She stroked his cheek, then his neck. A fine time she’d chosen for lovey-doving! A woman was always a woman after all, even if she was a ninja.
Midori-san’s hand slipped round to the back of the master’s head, the white fingers suddenly closed firmly together – and his round gaijineyes turned even rounder in amazement. The master sat down on the ground, slumping back against a tree trunk.
She had killed him. The accursed witch had killed him.
With a fierce growl, Masa aimed the fatal kubiori blow at the traitor: it should have ripped her scurvy throat out, but a strong hand seized his wrist.
‘He’s alive,’ the shinobi woman said quickly. ‘He simply can’t move.’
‘But why?’ hissed Masa, wincing in pain. What a grip!
‘He wouldn’t have let me do what must be done.’
‘And what is that?’
She let go of him, realising that he would hear her out.
‘Go into the house. Go down into the basement. There’s a barrel of gunpowder there in a secret place. The charge is calculated to make the house collapse inwards, crushing everyone in it.’
Masa thought for a moment.
‘But how will you get into the house?’
‘His strength will return in an hour,’ Midori-san said instead of answering. ‘Stay with him.’
Then she leaned down to the master and whispered something in his ear in gaijin language.
And that was all – she went out into the clearing and walked towards the house with a light stride.