Koji Kazekiri woke to the sound of the wind, rustling gently through the tall bamboo swaying overhead. He remained, for a while, transfixed on the hypnotic movement of the towering bamboo and their leaves, basking in the morning sun that reached the forest floor below. The summer sun was warm and comfortable, and he did not shrink from it. It felt good. Partaking in such simple pleasures was something rare for him. His mind was not often so clear as it was then, so he let himself be carried away by the moment.

  After some time, crystalline thoughts began to finally make their way to the surface. One such thought asked, “Is there more than this?” He did not think so, for the moment was so pure, that it temporarily captivated his spirit. However, from somewhere far away, an answering voice whispered in response, “Yes, much more.”

  No longer content to stay in that sublime moment, he sat up and peered around. Across the camp lay his fellow apprentice, Gintaro, who was still snoring noisily. This was not unusual behavior for his companion, as he often slept late and was continually scolded for it. Yet as severe as his punishments often were, he never seemed to change.

  “Wake up,” the elder of the two grunted, as he rose to his feet and stretched his arms overhead.

  Gin’s face twitched with mild annoyance, and he rolled to his other side.

  “If Sensei returns, he’s going to make you run again,” Kaze persisted, kneeling by the campfire. He scooped up some of the water in the kettle and used it to wash his face.

  “Sensei isn’t coming today,” came Gin’s muffled answer in reply. “We are supposed to meet him in the next village at midmorning, remember?”

  Kaze was annoyed by this. “I have not heard such news, but if he confided in you then I feel relieved, for it must be nearly midmorning now.”

  At this, Gintaro sat up with a sudden jerk. He looked like one who had just fallen from a high tree. His thick, messy mane was matted in some areas and frazzled in others. It stood in great contrast to Kaze’s thin, straight hair. Drool had crusted on the lower edge of Gintaro’s mouth, and his eyes were bleary.

  “Are you being serious?” he asked, rubbing his face as if to bring back feeling.

  “Do I look like I am joking?” Kaze shot back. “I’m not bothered at all. I’ll simply tell him that you forgot to tell me the plan. You will bear the blame for this one. You should know how much he hates when we are late.”

  “And you should know that you’ll be punished all the same, for late is late, excuse or no,” Gin returned, nearly jumping to his feet. For someone who had just been in the throes of a deep sleep, his vigor had returned to him quickly. His eyes seemed to carry the glint of burning energy and he wore his customary toothy grin. “And it’ll look all the worse when I beat you there.”

  With that Gintaro began packing his belongings with ravenous speed, as Kaze stood stunned at this sudden turnaround. “But we won’t be late!” he cried, moving with greater urgency with each passing moment. “Not today!”

  Not to be outdone, Kaze quickly gathered his possessions, and his movements were deft and organized. Despite starting after his companion, he was the first to sling his pack across his back and run out of the bamboo grove and onto the dirt path nearby.

  Gintaro was not far behind, and eventually, they were running side by side along the mountain trail. The roar of the cicadas was already loud enough to drown out their footsteps. They were more surefooted than any of the youths of that age, for they had been raised in the wilderness, and guided by a stern teacher. They sprang through the woods like deer, and the heat of summer bothered them little. They did not rest nor tire and reached their destination just as the sun crested over the trees.

  The two boys, twelve and eleven years old at that time, had finally come to the edge of the forest, and before them was a wide open plain. In the distance there sat a village on a hill. A wooden sign erected along the path indicated that they had come to a place known as Ine. The sun was shining brightly and there were a few clouds overhead, and for two youths who were used to the harshness of the wilds, this mountain village seemed like a promising place.

  Along the path that led towards the village, a figure could be seen making its way towards them. They could tell that it was their teacher by his firm, steady gait. Both apprentices stood up a bit taller as he drew nearer. Nakoto Jinsai was a strange teacher, and one could never be sure what humor one would find him in, especially after several days had passed since they had last seen each other. It was best to be prepared.

  Nakoto wore a stately indigo kimono with two handsome swords on his left hip. In this way, he appeared like a high-ranking samurai. But on his back, he wore the old, ragged cloak of an itinerant, and on his head was a shade hat, which was discolored and damaged. His face was cracked and leathery from many days spent out under the harsh summer sun, and his long, wild hair was streaked with grey. Yet the veins on his forearms hinted at a hidden strength below the surface, and his eyes seemed to shine with a depth of knowledge. Their teacher studied them carefully as he drew nearer.

  “Nearly late,” he commented, observing their chests rising and falling from the brisk run. His voice was hard like stone, and his face showed mild displeasure. “To me, nearly late and late are one and the same. I care not for punctuality, but for preparedness, and I can see this is a quality you both currently lack.” He said nothing else for several moments. Then, his features softened, and his eyes closed as a great smile crossed his face. “Are you well? How was the journey?”

  “Very well, Sensei,” Gintaro exclaimed, ever enthusiastic to answer first. “We saw a black bear on the heights.”

  “Did you now?” Nakoto said with a slight chuckle, “Kumo-san must have been attracted to your endless racket.”

  “Nay Sensei,” Kaze said solemnly. “We did as you instructed and crept quietly through the forest. None but the kami could mark our arrival, until this morning. The reason we were nearly late was…”

  “And what did you find to eat?” Nakoto interrupted.

  “Pheasant,” answered Gin. “Kaze-chan caught it,” he added with a smile.

  “Truly? Well done, Kaze-chan. Well done to both of you.” Nakoto paused for a moment, and his face became serious once again, but with the gravity of benevolence. “I am glad that you have been able to practice the art of becoming small. Do not easily dismiss it. Victory is not always achieved with brute strength and ferocity. The cat can see and be not heard, and the mouse knows not its danger until it is too late. There is power in remaining hidden, and great wisdom in being indistinct. For one cannot slay the mark he cannot see, and one cannot defeat an enemy he cannot find. You will do well to remember this.”

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  Both Gin and Kaze bowed as if to say, “Yes, teacher.”

  “Well, well, well,” Nakoto continued, breaking from the lecture. He glanced over at the wooden sign to his left. “So, we have come to Ine, then? I feel like I was here once before, but I cannot seem to remember it. This will be an interesting venture, as even my contact with the Order had little to say about the mission, which always makes me uneasy. I just finished speaking with the village headman, and he will suffer us to stay for a while. I will meet with the petitioner this afternoon and see what the problem is. As usual, you will come with me and interact with the locals. But don’t cause any trouble, and if I hear that another fight breaks out, your punishment will be much worse than last time.” He said this with a truly menacing expression.

  The apprentices bowed once again and then followed their teacher down the path towards the village. They had heard these instructions many times before, and it had become somewhat of a routine for them. Their teacher would enter a village, learn of some strange mystery and he would set about trying to solve it. He would not permit his apprentices to accompany him, and he rarely spoke in detail about any of his business. Though he seemed to render a unique service, he was not paid handsomely in coin or in glory. He dealt with matters often spoken in hushed whispers, and with furtive glances. Townsfolk were often more pleased by his departure than his arrival, for it meant some dark cloud had passed, and they did not yearn to see him again.

  Still, he did not seem to lack anything. He always had enough food, drink, and sake if he wanted it. He could have slept in any of the village households, though he often preferred to sleep under the stars. He could have levied heavy payments, for he was one of the few masters of his craft, yet he did not care for money. He was feared, respected, honored, and reviled all at once.

  “Ine…” Nakoto thought aloud. “The name seems familiar. Why can I not recall it?”

  “You have been many places, Sensei,” Gin said, following closely behind.

  “Too many,” Nakoto repeated quietly. “Far too many.”

  When they came to the village walls, they were permitted inside by a guard at the gate. The walls were made of slender pine logs, which were sharpened at the tops into points. There were no ramparts, and the gate was crudely fashioned. Though they offered little true defense, walls like these were an important facet of any village in those days. Warring factions often traveled about, slaughtering as they went. Then there were the packs of bandits and thieves, who, driven from their homes, plundered small towns to survive. It was common for villagers at that time to keep swords and other weapons, though they often did not know how to use them.

  As the three entered, they were greeted by the familiar unfriendly eyes gazing at them. None openly derided them, but they could sense the ridged posture of the townsfolk.

  “Do they hate us?” Kaze often wondered, “Or are they just afraid?”

  The three continued up the hill in near silence, past many rustic townhomes, until their teacher stopped at a small wooden house with a thatched roof.

  “This is the place,” he said to them. “Behave.”

  They could hear slow footsteps approach the door, and then the haggard face of a man appeared on the threshold.

  “Come in,” the man said quietly. “We have been waiting, master Kaijin.”

  Nakoto bowed, removed his sandals, and went inside.

  Both Gintaro and Kazekiri shot each other worried glances, as this was usually their least favorite part of the whole routine. They would have to endure a long and painful wait outside in a town that they did not know, among folk that did not care for them. They did not understand why their teacher made them come into the towns, for they would have rather stayed in the wilderness. They often complained to him, but he would not be moved.

  “You are human, are you not?” was all that he would answer.

  As it was, Kaze walked back towards the road, his head cast down as he kicked a stone ahead of him. Gin trudged slowly behind, and the two meandered through the village, as the bright sun rose higher in the cloudless sky.

  The villagers in this town were more gracious than most, for they did not curse or glare at them, but neither did they approach them. Gintaro preferred this kind of treatment, but Kaze took it hard. He would rather openly fight the local boys than walk about unheeded like a ghost. At least the bullies acknowledged him, for good or for ill.

  After some time, the two had found themselves at the edge of the village, upon a knoll from where they could see over the edge of the makeshift walls. They looked out and saw the grass blowing like rippling waves that reminded them of the sea.

  Suddenly, they heard footsteps approach from behind, and both boys whirled around, expecting the usual scuffle. They were surprised to find that it was a young girl, and she seemed to be close to their age. She was thin, pale, and had large eyes for her small face. She stopped and stared at them without saying anything.

  It was Gintaro who spoke first, as was his usual way. “What do you want?” he asked tersely.

  The girl seemed embarrassed at first, and she shrank away from his harsh words.

  “Do not be frightened,” ventured Kaze, seeing the honest fear in her eyes. “We will not harm you. Come, what is your name?”

  At this, the girl seemed to smile, but it was a sad, melancholic attempt.

  “So, you are human after all?” she said in a small voice. “I am Haru.”

  Gin took offense to this. “And what else would we be?” he retorted.

  Her eyes widened again, but Kaze stepped forward gently, and as she looked at him, she blinked and became calm.

  “I…” she muttered. “I came to see if it was true. The people of my village say that you are Kaijin.”

  “Kaijin?” Grin repeated. “We are no Kaijin.”

  The girl froze for a moment or two, trying to collect her words. At length, she spoke. “They say you have come to find my older sister.”

  “We are not yet Kaijin,” explained Kazekiri. “Our master is the one who will do the finding.”

  “Oh…” the girl said dejectedly, and her face became flush, and her eyes filled with tears.

  “But perhaps we can help,” Gin interjected. “We are his apprentices after all.”

  Kaze looked back at Gin with disapproval, but his fellow apprentice answered with a look as if asking him to play along.

  “Well, I’m sure there is something we could do…” Kaze said, giving way.

  The girl’s disposition instantly changed, and her great, deep eyes seemed to stare at them with admiration and hope. It was strange, for the boys had never received such a look before, and they were unused to it. It seemed to stir something within them, and they could not contend with it. For Kaze, it was the look he had longed for all his life, as he had looked the very same way upon his adoptive father, and his elder brothers in the house of Koji.

  “If we are to help you,” Kaze began, “We must first know where you think she is, or where she was last seen.”

  The girl nodded and pointed with her outstretched hand towards the great wood to their left, which sat behind the village and led upwards to tree-covered mountains. As the two boys gazed at this forest, they felt ill at ease, though they stood under the bright midday sun. The forest had a grim look about it.

  “My older sister wandered into those woods ten days ago. She has not been seen since. Our bravest men went in to find her, but they sought in vain. You see, we go not often into that wood. They say it has an evil history.”

  “How so?” Kaze asked.

  “There is a mansion located within that wood, and it once belonged to a family of renown. They were a noble house and served the Emperor and the Shōguns after him. Yet the last lord fell into wickedness and did terrible things to his servants and children. Eventually, his evil deeds were discovered, and he was destroyed, and his house was abandoned. But the memories of what happened there have never left that place and festered within the woods thereabout. For generations, we have not gone into that forest but have only hewn the trees at its very edge when we need timber. Children are told not to enter, but for some reason, my older sister went in. The villagers believe that she went into that very mansion, summoned there perhaps. If you can save her, I will never forget it.”

  Both Gintaro and Kazekiri seemed to shiver after hearing the ghastly tale, and they regretted offering aid so hastily. But the pitiable supplication of this frail girl was impossible to ignore, and so courage overcame their doubts.

  “I shall save your sister,” Kaze vowed.

  “We shall do all we can,” followed Gintaro.

  “Thank you!” the girl cried, as tears streamed down her face. She bowed deeply and then fell to her knees. “Please find her! I cannot live if she is truly gone.”