Ninja Woods

Long and Dangerous Path


This is a test. If I fail, I die. If I pass, I live on the see another day. In the end, death may seem a blessing. The journey will be brutal.



I stand in the middle of a wide clearing in a wood. Small trees are cast among the gloom. A small break in the leaves spreads sunlight over a small pile of golden leaves.

I step forward into the rays. The bright light blinds me. I try to look for the path. It hides in deep shadow. I drift to it, taking in my surroundings; I'll be in these woods for months. My task is to follow the path to the end.

The path twists to the right, then to the left. I am unable to predict where is shall turn next. It slithers through the trees, like a serpent. All the while, the trees grow thicker and closer together.

Finally, I arrive in another clearing. There is a small gap in the roof, but no light shines through; it is too late for the sun, but too early for the moon. It is twilight. The red has faded away, the first star shines down on my new hunting ground.

I keep on my empty backpack and crouch low to the ground. My knees are used to this, in training, but not over long periods of time. Today is their test of approval. My throwing knife in hand, I wait. My last meal was on the helicopter. My stomach is used to regular amounts of food. That won't happen here.

Hours crawl by. The sky gives up to more stars, and the moon. The air around me is deathly quite. I hear nothing.

My knees are in pain. My muscles are cramped. I try hard to not cry out in pain. I wish to move, to loosen my stiffness.

Minutes feel like hours. Seconds like minutes. Yet, I hear nothing. I can't even hear my own breath.

Seconds before I give up, I hear a snap. My brain is pulled away from the excruciating pain, and is called to the task ahead. My knife hand is covered in sweat. I wish to wipe it off, so I can get a better shot, but I'd give myself away to my prey.

Another snap calls to me, and my spirits soar. I call to the sound, begging for it to bring the animal closer, so I can shoot.

My wish is granted. A large rabbit steps into the clearing. I wait to see its profile. As soon as the animal turns, I toss my knife. I hit it in its heart.

The rabbit squeals, and falls over. Bones, blood and guts fly everywhere. I heard the contact just before the animal cries. It was sickening. But I must survive.

I give the rabbit a few minutes, still in my hunting crouch, then walk to my kill. My knife glided clean through, leaving a large, gaping hole. I pick it up. Warm blood oozes over my icy hands. I hold the meat there. Slowly, I set the rabbit in the middle of the clearing. Then I retrieve my knife from a sapling.

Working quickly, I collect an armful of wood and begin a fire. It starts slowly, and then fills the whole clearing with light and fire.

Although the knife went clean through the rabbit, it still has specks of blood on the blade. I was that with my clothes.

Making a small stand, I pull the rabbit through spittle. It sizzles while it burns. Only a few minutes ago did I clean it. The meat slowly burns.

Meanwhile, I practice throwing my knives. It soars through the air, then smacks into a small tree trunk. I toss both of them. I go through six rounds. I retrieve them for the last time, and then tear into my food.

The juicy game soaks into every taste bud. I savor the taste, knowing I may not be this lucky every day.

When I finish, I choke the fire, bury the bones, then go to sleep.

The subtle wind tosses the leaves spread on the ground playfully. To me, it is a lullaby, singing me softly to sleep.



Again, I follow the path stretched out before me. It twists and turns throughout the trees, like a ribbon.

Every day, I walk about ten to twenty miles. The clearings, breaking up the path, are spread out in almost equal intervals. I can only rest in the breaks, where I can see the sky.

Until I have a real meal, my stomach is never full. I race against time, time moving to winter. If I don't reach my destination before the fall of snow, I am sure to freeze.

That on my mind, I trudge on.

At all times I must be equipped with my weapons. I am not trained enough to hold off many ninjas without them. I have two throwing knives, located on the back of my calves. I also have a regular, all purpose knife, resting on my hip. Along with the short knives I carry a long sword, called a ninjaken. It is strapped onto my back. For long distance I carry all 50 of my shurikens in a shuriken belt on the opposite side of my body than the knife.

I soon have a daily schedule. I wake up one morning in Point A. I gather up my few belongings and clean up Point A so no one is to know I was there. I hike my 15 miles or so to Point B. I wait until an hour after dark for prey. If I find any, I cook and enjoy. Then I curl up and go to sleep until daybreak. I then start all over.



I wake the next morning with sunshine in my face. I smile and my muscles.

Looking around my sleeping area and kick around some leaves. I turn to the journey ahead.

This one path only lasts five miles. The sun had climbed to almost its full height. I decide to lie down and practice with my shuriken. Then I move.

I put one foot in front of the other. Over and over and over. Then a sickening thought strikes me. I lay down to the force of the truth.

My sensei told me about a lone short path of the many long paths. It marks a border; a line between the good and the evil-- a boundary between the hunters of the shadow and the protectors of the shadow. I am a protector.

Slowly I stand up. But I am knocked over again by another truth. I started a fire on enemy border. I was careless of stealth on enemy border!

My chance of surviving without my enemy and making it to the end of the woods, racing against Mother Nature, was maybe 50%. Moving stealthily through my foe's territory with winter a breaths away, was about 45%. But moving through the shadow of life's land, winter around the corner and lumbering around like a normal person, I've got, at best, am 89% chance of dying. That's only an 11% chance of living!

I curse myself and decide to stop here, before I make anymore mistakes. Then yet another agonizing truth punches me in my stomach. If winter falls and I'm still in enemy territory, they'd be able to see my tracks. I'd have to take to the trees or risk being ambushed. I wouldn't be able to fight of about 100 foot ninjas, would I?

I go pale and force back my vile. When morning strikes, I haven't slept a wink.

I try to rise to my feet. I stand there, shaky as a newborn baby, and just as vulnerable as one, too.

I curse. My harsh call echoes around me.

My stupidity had gotten no better over the night. I hike noisily to the next break.

When I reach my destination, I lay down my sword and sheath, my three knives, and my shuriken belt. I crawl to the opposite side of the area.

Minutes slowly go by. I only stare at my weapons. Unless you count my hands, feet and training, I'm totally defenseless. It would only be my luck if I'm caught.

A light breeze ruffles the canopy above. White fluffy clouds roll across the sky. Finally, I fall asleep.



I wake to lightning flashing across the sky. Rain drums the leaves around me.

Jumping to my feet, I grab my weapons and seek shelter.

A crash of thunder deafens me. I fall to the ground in my surprise and rush. I lay there, covered in mud. Out of the corner of my eye, I think I see a dark shadow move, but the clouds are too dark for me to be sure.

Another fork of lightning lights the sky. The dark shape was real, I find, and it's stands before me. I quickly jump to my feet and grab a knife.

Rain dripping down my face, knife posed affront, a bear rises above. It towers me and flashes his teeth. I gasp in fright.

It lunges toward me, his teeth bared. I crouch low and wait…. The animal falls just short of my nose. Then it's my turn.

My knife flashes, almost faster than the eye can see. It cuts the bear's eyes, nose, throat and stomach. In turn, using his claws, he rips at my stomach, chest and face.

I growl in pain and jump on his back. He twists and turns in amazing maneuvers to try to throw me off.

He bellows in frustration and moves to squash me. I flip off and hold him in one hand and slice his throat, deeper and deeper. He hollers and moves to bite my arm.

I whip around, but not fast enough. He bites at my throat, fangs sharp and pointy.

I see red as he makes contact, and lash out blindly with my knife.

The sky above reveals the night stars.

Luck with me, I cut out the bear's eyes and into his heart. Warm blood gushes out to the trail and over me.

The bear gasps his last shaky breath and dies. On top of me. There I sleep 'till morning.

When I do open my eyes the next day, the bear warms me with his bloody bulk. I shift to one side, then the other, but I can't get out. My arms are pinned to my side. My long, unkempt hair is knotted in front of my eyes. The blood is dry and thick. And there is an eight hundred pound bear crushing my ribs and legs.

After minutes of struggling, I am gasping for air. The bear's claws are wrapped around my body, cutting into my flesh.

My eyes bulge. Blood drips into them. My blond-red hair is glued to my face. My lungs and ribs are crushed.

My life flashes before my eyes. I see my mother, lying down by my side, a smile playing on her lips. Years later, I am sitting in detention for picking a fight with the meanest bully.

I know I'm going to suffocate and die. I know after my years of training, the thing that shall kill me is this bear.

The woods around my body are silent. The wind is too subtle; the leaves are still. The bear's body is stiffening and turning cold.

For the last time, I claw the ground. His claws rip at my side, but I move forward several inches. Silently, I congratulate myself, but I don't hold my breath. I could still die.

Hours move slowly by, me moving inches forward. I feel my life slowly running by. The longer I wait the less life I have to live.

Morning slips to mid-day which slowly crawls to evening. Hours melt into each other as I advance.

Look on the bright side, I'll have plenty of food, I thought, as long as I don't become food, I add, grimly to myself.

I think of all the simple joys of life: the joy of running, adrenaline pumping through your veins; lying down in a meadow of wildflowers; stroking my old cat while he's sleeping; talking to my friends during math class, racking out brains on the problems; even arguing with my adopted mother about my future. My future. What a shame to end it so soon, so stupidly. What's worse is the fact I hadn't died fighting hand to hand combat.

Slowly, exhausted, I drift off to an uneasy slumber.

The following morning, I wake to a munching noise. Confused, I open my eyes.

Sitting on top of the bear is a large wolf. Its fur is white with numerous grey speckles. His shoulders, I estimate, would come to my hips, and I'm six foot two. When the animal moves to bite, I see his teeth. I shrink in horror; they're about three inches long. His claws on his human-sized paws are long, curved and as sharp as my daggers. His black eyes reflect the little sun peeking through the leaves.

My eyes drift over his exaggerated features. My examination stop at one of his ears. It is sliced in half with a jagged cut. Dried blood is caked into his fur. This happened recently. By what?

My eyes continue their search. Nothing else is unusual about him. I shrug it off and wait for him to leave. But he doesn't. After he's done eating, he sits on top of the bear like it's his thrown. He cleans his bloody paws as a house cat would.

Hours slowly pass, and all he does is stare into my eyes. I stare back, my eyes full of fire. He doesn't flinch. Nor do I.

Finally, I decide to move. He hasn't harmed me, and he knows I'm here, so I don't think it matters. After three days of struggling, I finally wriggle out from under the carcass.

I flash a look at the wolf. He stares at me with curious eyes. I return his gaze. Then I speak:

"Who are you?"

As if satisfied with something, he turns down the path a few paces. He faces me again with beckoning eyes.

I hold up a few fingers. "Hold on," I whisper and get to work on the bear.

His liver and heart are missing. I smile. I pull of my empty backpack and stuff it with the bear skin, fat and meat. For a trophy, I grab several of its teeth. Satisfied, I look to the wolf.

Understanding I completed my task, the animal jumps to his feet. Slowly, he walks down the path. I trot up to his flanks. The creature only looks around at me.

For the rest of the day we travel together; him in front, I following, examining my surroundings with interest. The trees, I find, are covered in a lot of moss and are skinny and tall. The path laid affront of me is not a path carved by man, but made by man. The woodchips are soggy and soft, as long as a man's big toe. I look behind me and see no difference than ahead.

Closing my eyes and trusting my sense of hearing, I listen to the padding of my four-legged friend and to the sounds of the forest.

Rain from a couple days ago is collecting on the leaves, and then dripping into puddles on the forest floor. Birds sing in the mist, casting their beautiful joy throughout the gloom.

I open my mind further and taste the freshwater rain through my mouth. It covers the scent of drying ferns spread out.

I walk like this until we reach the next clearing. I drop my bag and curl up under my fur. The wolf lies down beside me.

My dreams that night are troubled. I visualize a great wolf with grey-speckled fur. His teeth are as long as my arm and they're heading toward me.

I scream in terror and try to twist away. He doesn't yield. He grabs me with his powerful jaws and yanks. I tumble after him, yelping in pain. I try to pull away….

Painful time runs by. Struggling with the wolf. He tears off my arm cruelly. Trashing and yelling, waiting for the pain to pass….

Blood smeared across my face. My fingers and toes disappearing. The pain growing. I wish to succumb to death.

I wake up. My hands are clammy. The bear skin is gone, along with the mysterious wolf. I rise to my feet, my muscles barely holding my weight.

I slowly scan the clearing with my nocturnal gaze. I see no sign of the wolf.

I decide I can look for him in the morning and fall back asleep.

Waking up the next morning, I see the wolf where I had left him last evening. He raises his head to search me. Then he looks at me questionly, his large head tilted.

"Can you understand me?" I ask him. He wags his tail in reply.

"Where were you last night? I woke up, and you were gone," I tell the wolf.

In response, he jumps onto his feet and heads to the path.

"Hold on," I order, holding up my fingers. He sits down patiently.

Quickly, I gather the pack and kick more leaves around.

"Ready."

The wolf bounces his head and trots down the wooden path. Stealthily, I follow.

We hike a few miles and then the wolf halts. I crouch down, grabbing a few shuriken. Then the guardian wolf growls in an angry tone.

I listen hard for any other sign of life. All I hear are the birds and the light breeze waking the leaves. I search the trees, but see nothing.

The wolf before me howls, and not in any mournful way. My muscles tense and my jaw clenches.

The wolf then whips around and stares past me. I choose not to move and cover his back. All that happens next is a blur:

"He-yaw!" A scream sounds to my right. I turn sharply and let loose my shuriken. The wolf is locked in battle with another ninja, the hunters.

A heavy blow is delivered to my side, sending my flying. I jump to my feet, groping for my sword. I find the handle and yank it out of its sheath. I send the blade flying to where I was hit, where a broad ninja is waiting.

He holds up his hands to catch the metal -- too late. The sharp edge slices through his hand and bones and keeps flying. He shrieks in pain and lunges to my throat, knife in hand.

Swiftly, I dance out of his way. I elbow him with incredible strength in the small of his back. My foot flies to his temple, knocking him out. I turn to face my buddy to see him licking his wounds. Sensing my victory, the wise wolf looks into my eyes. I stare back at him, his eyes full of wisdom and sorrow.

The old wolf spreads warmth through my body. As our gazes are locked, I remember my sensei, and I see him inside this wolf.

"Thank-you," I nod, "Sensei."

I think the wolf agrees to his name, because he leaps ahead of me. Slowly, he limps on.

I sheath my sword and follow the poor wolf. We leave the bloodied bodies behind.

Reaching another meadowed area, the old wolf falls to the ground, gasping for air. I quietly offered him, several times, to rest, but the stubborn wolf refused every offer. I think the fight took a lot out of the wolf. Yet, he is still full of pride.

If I start a campfire today, we'll surely be spotted, so I grab some bear meat for him and I. We both eat it raw.

Sensei dozes off. I watch him with interest for a while. I notice how smooth his coat is and how his chest slowly rises, then falls. Reluctantly, I join Sensei in his vigil.

I wake the next morning with my sixth sense screaming, "Danger, Run!" but I ignore it and pull Sensei onto my shoulders. He only opens his eyes in reply. I trod carefully on.

My bare feet are silent. The woods around me make no noise. All I hear is the voice in my head, telling to drop the doomed wolf and run for my life, my strong heartbeat and the wolf's shallow breathing.

I dare not take a break, for I'll listen to my gut that much, but I wouldn't be able to support his own weight, but he must be put down. If I shall quicken my pace, I shall run out of energy with the load or I would trip. I surrender to our lives, not the wolf's needs.



The sun disappeared beneath the trees hours ago. Normally, I'd be resting, but there has been no break to rest. I moved the wolf into a cradling hold, but I don't think my friend will live much longer. His breath is coming in painful gasps.

My powerful eyes reveal a pond in the path ahead, but a small clearing comes first. I hurry ahead and set Sensei down. I give him a handful of meat, and then curl up beside him, lending him my body heat from the crisp night air. I quickly fall asleep.

I jump to my feet, first thing in the morning and eat a small piece of bear. It melts in my mouth, even though it is raw. I turn to give some to Sensei, but his body is still. Instead, I eat his piece.

I try to move on, but his powerful body, just lying there, halts me. Tears welling up in my eyes, I grab a flat rock to dig a small grave. My anguish and pain helps drive me on until it is beyond deep enough.

Tears flowing freely, I move to lift the body. But, grief takes over in a wave, and sends me sprawled across the ground, fretfully sobbing.

Grabbing control of myself, I rise to my feet and gently lift my companion. I bring him over to the grave, then lower him to the bottom. His body lies down there, staring peacefully up at me. Crying, I shovel the earth onto his corpse. I'm only tucking him in, I tell myself, and sob even harder.

The hole slowly becomes full and I lay myself next to his grave. I stare up at the thin layer of leaves and recall our short time together.

He left me as suddenly as he found me. He ate the bear I killed and stuck around for me. I greeted him coldly, be he helped me, nonetheless. He fought nobly for me, saving me. It was a fight I wasn't supposed to win. When it was all over, he only got up and walked away. I know the poor wolf was in serious pain.

If I had as much guts as him, I'd have put him out of his misery, but I know I'm not as brave as he was. If he'd known the Bashito code, he would be a better ninja than I.

I stand and grab my ninjaken from my back. Faster than anyone would be able to see, I carve the word 'brave', in katakana. Before I grow emotional again, I walk, downtrodden, away.

As I walk, I can only concentrate on the wolf, not my task. I look, but not see, to what is ahead.

I stand there, numb to the world around me. I am stuck in a fantasy land, far away from here. I unconsciously walk to the clearing where my wolf friend is resting.

I've only known him a short while, but I seems as if I've known him a very long time.

I sit by his grave until dark fall. I then cry myself to sleep.

I wake the next morning to a calm, warm day. I look to the sky and murmur, "Thank-you Sensei," then hike to the path without a tear.

The pond ahead, I estimate, is three miles away. I jog to cover my lost ground. I stop as soon as I reach the edge of the pool. I know that if you don't see the bottom of a gathering of water, you shouldn't go in, but I need to ignore this. Keeping my backpack and rags I have on, I jump into the pond.

Icy cold water rushes past my head. The air in my lungs is pushed outward. I break the surface, coughing and sputtering. I tred water for a minute, catching my breath, then swim to the other end.

Seaweed and other plants grab at my legs, almost bringing me under, but I come back up, and then swim on.

Half way across, the bottom falls away, along with the plants. A dark shape moves toward me. I stay still, occasionally moving my arms to keep my head above the surface.

The shape rubs against my side. It is long and slimy. Afraid of what it could do, I swim as fast as I can to my destination.

Making it to the other side, I drop my weapons and dry them off, so they don't rust. I decide to make camp.

Above the pond I can see the sunny, blue sky. The large star slowly drifts overhead, drying my body and clothes. Night comes quickly, bringing frost along with it. I eat my meat and sleep.

Morning comes too soon. I stretch my sore muscles, gather my weapons and pack.

Today is just as warm as yesterday was. That's something to happy of. Yet, I still have some shivers, from yesterday's swim, so I move on.

The path twists and turns continuously, affecting my range of sight. The trees are larger and closer; I'm in the heart of the woods.

I brood on my problem:

People are pursuing me. I can't hear them, they're ninjas, but I know they're there.

I come upon a tall brick wall. I press my back against it and look beyond the pond I crossed. Quickly, I turn to face the bricks and put my ear against the cold surface. What is on the other side? My mind wanders and I hear cars from my home city.

Suddenly, a twig snaps. I am jerked from my fantasy land. Slowly, I unsheathe my sword, without making a noise. I grip ninjaken so hard, my knuckles turn white.

Leaves crunch to my left. I turn sharply, holding the sword in my front. More leaves protest behind me.

No more time for grieving, now is the time to focus, to fight.

I face away from the wall, so my back will be protected. Out of the corner of my right eye, the ninja reveals himself. He holds a bo staff in hand and swings it above my head. I don't move.

The other hunter shows himself, too. He holds a pair of nunchucks. Now I move.

I dart forward and wheel around to face my enemies. They easily follow. The first man swings his staff to my face. I block it effortlessly with my sword, while I back away. They think I'm giving up without a fight. They lighten their blows. I don't. But, I am only blocking them.

I can tell they're novices; I can block their hardest blows. They think I'm their equal or lesser because I'm giving ground, unable to protect myself.

The "kids" get careless and give me many chances to kill them. I guard myself heavier and pretend I'm wearing out.

My sword moves slowly. It is light, but I make it look like I'm a clumsy women.

One of the kids laugh. The other nods. He goes to my knees with one nunchuck and my hip with the other. I half-heartedly block him.

But while the man with nunchucks is attacking me, the other ninja, with the bo staff, is preparing for the death blow. I still pretend I'm paying attention to the first kid, but I'm not. My eyes are on the other. He uses his staff to hit me behind my neck with blinding speed.

I'm ready. Up until now I was only using metal, not fists and feet. Now I kick out with my feet and hit the second ninja under the ribs. My sword powerfully disarms the first and beheads him. Ninjas are assassins.

The last ninja doubles over in pain. I sheath my bloody sword and draw a knife. I jump onto the teen's back and hold to the knife to his throat.

"Drop your weapons and give me no hassle, or you'll end up like your friend," I growl. Unused to my voice, I find it didn't sound as threatening as I'd like.

"A-anything," he stutters and throws his weapons to the side.

"If I get off, you won't run," I order. I feel him nod.

My bloodthirsty knife reluctantly pulls away from his throat… The kid only stiffens. Satisfied, I crawl off his back. The boy doesn't move.

"I'll strike a deal with you," I announce, "take it or leave it, I don't care." The person before me only stares at me, wide-eyed. "If I bring you along with me, you can't be human, you must be ninja; silent. That's the only way I let you live." I let the boy think about the matter.

The kid holds out his hand. "Agreed," he whispers.

"Great, now how do you get past this wall?" I stare up to the top, twenty feet from the ground.

"This way," the boy asserts. I nod and follow.

The farther we walk, the path becomes more pronounced. Greenery is slowly disappearing.

"If you lead me into a trap…" I warn. "Off with your head."

The boy keeps walking, but he grows paler.

"Th-there I-is a -- our hide out I-in those walls," the kid stammers.

"Very good," I congratulate him, "that's a way to earn my trust." The kid didn't smile.

As I made the kid lead, I noticed many things about him: he had shoulder-length brown hair, broad shoulder and was about 18, 19 years old.

He has been trained, though rather pitifully, I noticed. His arms were muscled and strong, but I thought him too big. He was shorter than I, maybe by seven inches. He walked with a slight limp.

As he limped and I walked, I noticed this path was carved by man, worn down by many generations of footsteps. The great brick wall beside us slightly curved.

"There are guards above us," he points out.

"Great, hold on," I breathe. The boy halts. "If I can't trust you, I'll kill you. Can you throw a shuriken?"

"What's that?" the kid asks, dumbfounded.

"This," I hold up one of mine.

"Oh, a ninja throwing star. No," the kid confirms my belief.

"That's what I thought," I sigh, "watch me."

I look up and see on guard. I pull one star from my pouch. I line it up and let it loose. It hits him in the throat.

"Cool!" the kid shrieks.

"Quiet," I snap. He shrinks at my ferocity. "Sorry. We've got to get out of here, okay?" The boy nods his head.

The day passes in silence until we reach the wood-laden path and the next clearing.

"I can tell you're bursting with questions. I'll tell you what I deem appropriate."

"Thank-you! Why do you wear rags?" he asks.

"I have no other clothes," I tell him simply.

"Okay…. Why do you have so many scars? They're everywhere! All over your face, chest and back. Your right arm is the worst."

"I fought and killed a bear," I answer him, after a moment of thought. "They're that bad?"

"Yeah!" he exclaims, awed. "Awful."

"May I have a turn?" I ask him. I am not burning like him, but the information would be nice.

"Sure," the kid replies. "But I didn't get a good turn."

I ignore his second comment. "What's your name?"

"Chaiki," he answers.

"Nice."

"Uh… are you done?"

"Yes."

"Great! Could you teach me how to throw a shuriken?"

"No, not now."

"Why not?"

"I said so."

"That's not a good reason." The kid pauses, thinking. "How old are you?"

"Not a very polite question."

"Are you going to answer?"

"No."

"Fine."

"Any more?" I ask, hopes rising.

"Hmm… yeah."

I roll my eyes. "Spill," I grunt.

"Why are you in the woods?"

That question, for some reason, caught me off guard. I hesitate and answer, "I… not at this time."

"So that means you are going to answer?" he chatters.

"It depends…. One, if I don't kill you. Two if you are worthy. Three…."

"Three?"

"When I deem appropriate and if I don't die myself." At that, I spoke nothing
more on the subject, despite his protests.

"I'm hungry!" he complains. When he gets no reaction from me, he continues. "I didn't eat lunch today."

I snort in laughter, unable to control myself. Maybe I will keep this kid; he's hilarious. "What did you have for breakfast?" I choke.

Chaiki stares at me, a bewildered expression on his face. "That's not important," he sniffs, mocking me.

I pull out my knife and hold back my laughter. My face grows serious.

Chaiki holds up his hand, as if to defend himself. "O-okay. I ate two eggs, a glass of orange juice and a banana."

I sheath my knife and laugh even harder.

"What?" he hollers. He can't figure out why I'm laughing.

I shake my head and pull out a slab of meat. I eat it raw in front of him. I offer him nothing.

After I finish eating, I look to his face. It is filled with disgust.

"D-did you just eat that raw?" he stammers.

"Yup. That's all I've got to eat-- raw bear meat. I've had nothing as fancy as you for a very long time." Noticing he'd want none, I offer him a piece.

"Hell no!" he shrieks. I laugh and go to sleep.

I wake before the sun and kid.

"I'm 42," I softly tell the sleeping boy. Then I bellow, "Wake up kid; time to leave camp! Let's go!"

The kid jumps up. "What-- hey! Uh… not breakfast?"

"Never," I laugh and turn to leave.

"What?" he shrieks. "How do you live?" he mutters to himself. I wink.

"If you're lucky, I'll start a fire tonight."

" 'If I'm lucky?'"

"And if you're lucky, I'll let you borrow one of my knives--"

"Hold on, 'one of your knives?'? How many weapons do you have?"

I ignore that. "-- of my knives to get a rabbit."

"Wow, you've grown like the forest," he reflects. I also ignore that. Really, I don't know what he means by it.

"Oh! I didn't ask your name," Chaiki continues.

"Kifu," I answer.

"Ooh! That's a game…" he chatters on and on. The rest, I don't listen to.

I cut into his speech, miles later. "Chaiki, I'll answer you're question if you shut--" I pause in both steps and speech.

"What?" Chaiki asks, noticing I'm not behind him anymore.

"Quiet," I hiss. I crouch and pull out a knife. I toss it to Chaiki.

"Wha--?" he starts, startled.

"Heh!" I snap. "Defend yourself!"

"Uh-oh," Chaiki begins. He crouches in a defensive stance, knife in hand. I pull out my ninjaken. A low rasp echoes around the trees.

We stay that way for twenty minutes.

"Uh, Kifu, I don't think we're under attack…."

"Very observant," I snort. "Keep the knife for now. It ain't good fro throwing, but I think it's always nice to have a blade. Stay on your toes. We could be ambushed any time now. And, Chaiki, keep your mouth closed unless it's necessary." That was the longest speech the kid had ever heard me speak.

We silently walk on. After a minute of thought, I break the silence. "Chaiki," I begin. He jumps. "No more fire. You'll eat raw meat, or none." He nods, jaw clenched.

The day passed and we reach another clearing. I eat a small slab of meat-- I'm not hungry. I offer the kid some, but he pushes it away.

"No, Chaiki, I wasn't giving you a choice. You need to keep up your strength."

Reluctantly, he chokes it down. If we weren't in grave danger, I'd laugh at his expression.

"You want first or second watch?" I ask him.

"Second," he yawns. "'I need to keep up my strength.'"

I force out a couple laughs and settle myself down, a knife in my lap. "Glad to see you listen," I mutter.

He lies down in response.

It grows dark. A normal person would only just make out their hand. I can see the whole clearing, as if it were bathed in sunlight.

For hours, nothing happens. If I had a watch, it'd read somewhere around 23:30. Thirty more minutes until I rest. I won't sleep; I can tell he only has a year or two of training. But… maybe I should pretend I'm sleeping.

I lie down, knife clutched in my hand. [i]Maybe with the kid around, I can meditate again,[/i] I laugh.

I count the minutes. I reach 24 and hear a twig snap. I tense and get ready to wake Chaiki. But nothing happens.

Another three minutes later, an unnatural rustling comes from my right. [i]Pray it is a deer![/i] I call. I tell myself it wouldn't be safe to wake the slumbering teen around midnight.

More rustling comes from my left. I wish to wake Chaiki, but he'd only make noise. He's got the training of a fly.

As the seconds tick by, my heart thumps harder. The rustling comes from all around the clearing, happening closer in time… and to me.

I know it isn't deer, but a stealthy ninjas. The upside is they think I'm asleep. I've the benefit of surprise. Still, they should try to be quiet.

I think back to what my sensei said: "You said there are only 100 of them? No, Kifu. There are at least a thousand shadow ninjas. At least when I went through." I never really noticed before, but he has a few scars. I wonder how many I have. I remember my friend, Shinka, saying, "Then there must be 5000 now!"

"No," Sensei rejected, "their palace isn't that big."

I can't believe I volunteered for this job. I just didn't want to see Shinka go through this, yet.

Sticks snap. The ninjas are in the clearing now. I wait until the right moment.

I said, about six months ago, to Shinka, to frighten him, "Many people never even come back. Several go in, few come out." That is the truth.

Now, I decide, is the time to act. I jump to my feet, the knife in hand and cry out, "Chaiki! Wake up! We're under attack!"

Chaiki jumps up and screeches, "Ah! I was hoping you were wrong about this!"

I shake my head and dive at the closest ninja. For some reason, he is caught unaware and I kill him instantly. I pull out my sword and slaughter the four to my left. One from my right finally regains his head and jumps at me. His sword nicks my shoulder. I turn on him and there is a flash of sparks. I have no time to check on Chaiki.

I turn on the spot. My knife cuts into his stomach. The ninja closing in on my gets a sword through his chest. They both back away.

Ten more jump on me. I easily knock them off; they were off balanced. I struggle with the other and push them off slowly. I gain a ninja every time I lose one.

I suffer many serious cuts. I am blinded from my own blood. I find I'm swallowing it, too. The warmth of it is disgusting, along with its salty taste.

I twist and turn to throw my pests off. I succeed in riding of three. More stand by, eager to fight.

An hour passes through the fight. I am wearing. I can't pick up my own sword. I have a knife in each hand, instead.

I slice numerous ninja's throats. If cut off heads, fingers and feet. A dull throbbing in my head tells me I'm missing a few fingers, too.

The battle rages on. I am counting how many ninjas I throw off or kill. I count over 100.

I am gasping for fresh air while I turn unpredictably. My brain is no longer thinking. Act and react.

I am in a sea. I find myself only able to just keep my head above the pounding waves. I can't swim away; the current is too strong.

Somehow, I manage to do a flip and succeed in killing three ninjas and injuring four.

In the pit of my stomach, I feel the worst is yet to come.

Again, I have ten more ninjas lying at my feet, dead. I experience a large energy surge. "I-ya!" I scream. Six-teen more ninjas drop, within seconds.

I look around through the screen of blood and darkness. Bloody bodies are on the ground. I am the only one standing. Has my gut failed me? I ask myself, hopes rising. I find the kid underneath a few dead bodies. I pull him out. He is still breathing.

Taking advantage of my energy, I pull Chaiki onto my shoulders. I hope over the bodies, dead and alive, and walk onto the path.

Instead of feeling victorious, I feel and empty space: sorrow, regret, shame. I walk through the woods, robot like. Not afraid, but angry. Those people didn't deserve to die! Yet….

I calculate it is 2:00 in the morning. I haven't slept. If I had, the outcome would have been different.

The sun rises into the air. It winks through the thinning trees. Chaiki and I reach the clearing. I'm surprised we made it here so quickly.

I have not time to think it over, for I drop the limp body and pass out.

As I sleep, all that happened last night flashes through my head. I am torn to pieces. I can't take it.

Almost everyone I slaughtered was Chaiki's age. They only overwhelmed me in numbers, not experience.

The sun sets. I wake to find Chaiki missing. Has shame upon killing so many of his peers overtaken him? Worse than I? I can't bare the thought.

Lethargically, I start a fire and cook my first meal in months. I feast on berries and bear. I collect puddles of water.

Yet, Chaiki never comes back. I am feasting like a king, but my companion is captured or lost.

During my meal, twigs crunch on the path ahead. I ignore it, but hoe flutters in my stomach. Chaiki is back!

A dark shadow hovers on the path. I uneasily grab a few shuriken. Dread climbs and pushes out hope.

The shadow is too large to be Chaiki, or another kid. I slowly stand. The shadow steps forward into the light.

He is holding Chaiki. I growl and toss a few shuriken to his head. They land low and sink into the flesh covering his broad shoulders. He doesn't flinch. He only stares into my eyes, dominance sparkling in them.

I stare back, showing him I'm not afraid of his burly figure.

We stay that way for a long moment. Then he breaks contact, throwing Chaiki aside. He lands with a soft thump.

He grabs a katana and swings at my neck. I duck. I stab him with my knife while he follows through. He only kicks me in the head.

I grunt and roll aside. He's on me in an instant. A flashback shows itself to me.

"Kifu," Sensei growls. "When under attack, react. Think later. Pressure points help…."

I knee him in his elbow. A snap tells me I blew it apart. I stab him. His other arm flaps uselessly at his side. I flip over him, then finish him off.

It was an easy squabble at the end, but I haven't slept much and I was battle sore. The only thing that matters is that I got Chaiki back.

I crawl over to his body. He is lying sprawled across the ground.

"Chaiki, if you can hear me, I leave at sundown. I won't be able to carry you. If you don't wake, I must leave you here."

His eyes flutter open. "Kifu," he groans, "food."

I chuckle softly and give him a few blackberries. He gobbles them down. "Help yourself," I tell him.

Within minutes, every scrap of meat is gone. Chaiki leans against a tree,
patting his stomach. "That's the best meal I've ever had with you," he says, happily.

"You ate more than I did!" I scold.

He laughs and tosses a pebble at my head.

"Alright," I growl, "time to go."

"Aw man," Chaiki complains.

I cover the embers and leave. Chaiki, despite his string of complaints, follows.

The canopy gives away to the ghostly moon, lending us its light. The path grows broader, letting Chaiki and I walk side by side.

Then, the path ends. Standing on a small cliff, Chaiki and I look down at a small town. A large fire burns in the middle, giving the people around it warmth.

I sigh and start down the hill. Chaiki follows. The journey in the woods is over. A new life lies before me.