Genre: Historical Fiction
Plot: The rise of a martial arts Guru with a secret Mission.
Words to use: athlete, discipline, kick, punch, focus, mind, system, warfare, enemy, master, bear, skill, silent, aim, ladder.
A man, his muscles straining, pulled a wagon down the mud soaked street, heading to an alley, a light mist swirling, covering everything with a light layer of moisture.The buildings on the street were dark. Except for a few people both peasant and criminal, most people were asleep at this time, tired of the long day of trade and work. Akio Mori came out of the dark shadows of the alley and passed the wagon as it disappeared. A single red light illuminated a single door to the right. He took a deep breath and checked his pocket for the hundredth time. As a master of the martial arts, his sharp mind was grounded and calm from years of discipline. His breath slowed despite the feeling of being watched fell upon him. He had the build of an athlete with the skills for warfare.
The door opened just a crack and a voice came from behind the door. He heard the click of the colt firearm, ready to shoot through it, ending his life. This was no noble man, Akio said to himself as he felt the weight of the knives that surrounded him beneath his clothing. It was in the den of snakes. He was sent by the Emperor for something he knew was somewhere inside the derelict building.
The rain began to fall in earnest behind him, puddles of water gathered, and the mud caking the ground behind him. The rain drops made a clang from the metal pots of the nearby noodle shop.
Master Mori’s life played before his eyes. How did he get here? He was no one from nowhere, a village north of Tokyo. Nikko and its beautiful shrines and mountains were the background of his young life. His father encouraged him to learn the martial arts, bujutisu, starting with karate, moving to Aidido, then Jujutsu. It was Akio’s interest in swords that made him what he was today – a famous guru with fathers seeking him out, from far north and south near the East China sea, to teach their sons a skill to protect themselves and their family. He became a master of all seemingly having an innate gift. He was a prized teacher. The man behind the door would have known who he was, but he kept his face shielded with a hood and the darkness around him. Even with the correct password, the man knew he didn’t belong there. Akio, his nostril snarled upward, knew he’d have to kick and punch his way in, and with such great force, pushed the door open so hard it caused the man opening it to stumble backward.
The silence of the night became punctuated with breaking glass and men screaming, both words of abuse and pain. A man in black came from a side room and Master Mori’s punch sent him backward into a room filled with boxes of ammunition. Master Mori wasn’t done. More men came from the rear of the building, his kick was precise and legendary. His enemy was subdued with his focus and years of training. The master calmed his mind and fought each one only requiring a few blows. They laid on the ground either unconscious or groaning, holding a broken limb or two.
He quickened his pace, heading to the ladder he had been told he would need to climb to finish the task he had been given.
As he climbed the landing, he found a locked door. The walls were covered in peeling wallpaper and the smell of mildew filled the air. He used his entire body weight and strength to crash through the thin door, with parts of the trim coming off with it. The room looked empty, only the light of one lantern hung on the far wall gave him light. He heard men talking below, trying to recover from the brutal attack. They gathered themselves again, both bruised in body and ego. A whimper came from the dark corner behind a broken bamboo chair. He could see the frightened eyes of a child that attempted to hide further within the corner.
“Don’t be frightened, child, I am here to save you,” Master Mori inched closer, with his thick slippered feet fell silently on the floor of wood and dust. She tried to get away, the chair, collapsing as it fell, but didn’t get far. Master Mori could hear the voice getting louder, angrier. He held out his hand as he looked behind him. “Come with me, your father sent me to save you, Hanachan.”
The little girl stopped, looking at her with large brown eyes, ran to him with her arms outstretched. “I will come.”
“Hold on to me, be quick.” He threw a table that held the remnants of food through the window, the rain water went in all directions from the impact. Outside the window, a slippery ledge gave them room to maneuver toward the side of the building. A man tried to go out through the window after them, but he didn’t aim it correctly and slipped, almost falling off the edge. Master Mori and the little girl, clinging to him like a young Japanese macaque to her mother, descended into the shadows of the side of the building. “We will hide in the shadows,” he said. They could hear other men shouting, going in all directions.
“I have a horse waiting for us this way,” he whispered to her. She whispered back a delicate thank you in his ear. “We will ride to the river and take my boat to the palace, your father awaits you, Hanachan.”
The moonless night cast deep shadows that guarded their steps through the muddy road. The rain became like a mist again. The little girl, in only a thin pajama, shivered in his arms. With a sudden growl, they stopped to allow a bear to cross their path. It kept its gait even, it had no interest in these humans and kept going with swiftness within the trees. The little girl let out a repressed squeal and Master Mori eased her worry with a gentle rub on her hand gripping his. “Don’t worry. We are close.” They turned a corner and could see the breath of the horse. “I have something for you to comfort you on our trip.” He plunged his hand into the sack beneath the saddle and pulled out a small mound of rags with arms and legs, button eyes and threaded mouth. She smelled the musty rice-husk as she hugged it close. He wrapped her in a blanket before lifting her up and then himself behind her. He wrapped an arm around her and gripped the leather reins. He gave it a snap and the horse bolted down the hill toward the shimmering water far in the distance. The silence was broken by the sound of hooves along dirt roads. The night, cold and dark, enveloped them in a chilled wet blanket. Stars danced above them without notice.
By the time the horse slowed and arrived at the waiting boat, the little girl’s head bobbed in his arms, sound asleep like she hadn’t slept in days from worry and stress. He gently laid her on a tatami mat on the boat’s flat bottom. The boat had a lantern that he lit after climbing in, casting a glow upon the dark waters. He took the oars in hand and rowed, the little girl’s gentle breaths coming slow and soft beneath the blanket. He sighed as he thought about her long ordeal. Master Mori, through his years, had friends in low places, but it still took time to find her. The emperor cursed the ones who took his child and only their death would bring him peace, but, first, he wanted his daughter back. If it got out that men were able to kidnap a daughter of the emperor, it would cause immense turmoil within the country. Master Mori promised complete secrecy. He heard whispers first. When he received confirmation of her location, under the moonless night when no one would recognize them, he implemented his simple plan. Catch them unaware and fight. He was confident he could overtake them.
The Emperor promised him wealth and prosperity, more than what he had achieved as a martial arts guru, but it pleased him to find something so precious as a daughter. He thought of his own daughter as they drifted down the river, oars gently glided through the still water, and lost in thought. He would do anything to have her back in his arms. Once more to smell her hair and watch her play on her mat in the dimly lit room of rice paper walls.
The boat ride to the palace ended as the sun was rising in the east. The glow of the sun hit the palace with rays of gold and crimson. He tied up the boat. The little girl peeked her head out of the blanket. “Are we home?”
“Yes, Hanachan, you are home.”
As they entered the palace the smell of hinoki wood surrounded them with a delicate, lemon-resin fragrance. The vast halls led to more vastness of rooms of low tables and mats. The residual smell of sandalwood incense still lingered, the remnant of the sticks in front of images of a past Emperor. Within the Takamikura, the Emperor sat on his throne and was surrounded by guards. It had deep carvings of chrysanthemums in the lacquered wood. The Emperor, hiding his tears and a voice that cracked slightly, said, “Thank you, Master Mori, for retrieving my precious Hana for me.” He looked at his daughter still grasping Master Mori’s hand, “I am so glad to see you again, Hanachan. It has brought relief to my grief.”
Master Mori bowed deeply and the little girl was carried away by a servant standing by. The little girl looked at the master as she left through the large wood carved doors. “I had my guard round those men up after you left,” his voice, clear and commanding, made the walls shake. “You will be rewarded fully, Master Mori, and your fame will reach farther and farther until wealth overtakes you.”
“It was my pleasure, Emperor.” He bowed again, deeper, and walked backward from the presence of the Emperor. It wasn’t wealth he desired – peace of thought and a trained body is all he wanted.
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