Dragon Island (15 page)

I groan when I see we are following the river through the forest back up the mountain side.

We were not allowed to see Kitsune before leaving. I’m terrified to be abroad on the island, going who knows where for what purpose, without her.

My apprehension is obvious, and Ishiro spends the early part of our journey sneering at me and informing me Kitsune will no longer be serving as my wet nurse.

It’s only at the beckoning of Tanuki, my one semi-friendly traveling companion, that Ishiro relents.

My peace is short-lived, however.

We reach the cave mouth around noon. The ‘Incredible Growing Mikoshi-baby’ stands guard, glaring up at us from shin-level with his beady, perpetually crossing eyes, daring us to advance.

His uneven gaze is especially piercing when it lands on me.

We continue our trek up the mountain and I breathe a deep sigh of relief. If I never have to tangle with Mikoshi—or see the deep labyrinth again, for that matter—it will be all too soon.

We reach the mountain’s apex late that afternoon. Exiting the forest, I see that it’s not a mountain we are climbing at all, but a dormant volcano.

The volcano mouth that must have once belched torrents of fire and brimstone is now asleep and covered with the same lush greenery as the mountainside. A single grass house overgrown with creeper vines stands at the center of the volcano cone, just beyond the deep hole that would normally lead to a magma chamber. I think about the vertical, sunshine-filled tunnel I saw just before exiting the deep labyrinth and realize I’m looking at its opening.

Mujina motions us on and we crest the volcano mouth and make our way down to the hut, the cicadas hidden in the vegetation singing all around us.

Our band of sojourners halts ten yards short of the hut. Mujina and Tanuki trade nods. The latter puts his hands on Ishiro and my shoulders and urges us forward.

If I was scared before, fear now unfurls in my gut like a thorny, black rose. I know the shobijin—the mystical twin priestesses of the Toho—must await us inside, but I haven’t a clue why Ishiro and I’ve been brought to them.

Now, of course, I know we’re supposed to do something to remove Kitsune’s disgrace for trespassing inside the deep labyrinth, and somehow help her village at the same time, but beyond that, I’m clueless. Ishiro and I could be being offered up as a sacrifice to the daikaiju the Toho worship, for all I know!

My guts twist with fear and I begin to tremble.

“Do not be afraid, Raymond-sai,” Tanuki assures me. “All will be well.”

Gee, thanks! If my history here on
Kaiju
Island
is any indication, I’m sure everything will be just peachy-keen! In fact, let me thank you for being the dude who suggested this little jaunt for Ishiro and me, Tanuki-sage, ol’ friend, ol’ pal o’ mine!

We reach the hut. Tanuki bows and calls out what I guess to be a greeting in Tohonese. Without waiting for a response, he pushes aside a set of dangling creeper vines to reveal the hut’s bamboo door. He slides the door open and steps inside and then bows again. When he rises, he turns and motions for Ishiro and me to enter.

Ishiro immediately obeys. He crouches into a bow after crossing the threshold.

Tanuki notes my reluctance and gestures to me again.

I swallow hard and walk forward, feeling as if I’m in a dream. I enter the hut and realize that I am in a dream. That can be the only explanation for what I see.

If Tanuki is old, then the twin females sitting cross-legged on the hut’s floor are ancient. Literally! They have been seated there in that position so long that the creeper vines covering the floor, ceiling, and walls have grown into their snow-white hair and hand-woven robes, making it impossible to tell where the plants stop and they start.

They stare at nothing with glazed blind eyes as blank and white as a necklace of pearls.

But, shobijin or not, it’s obvious to me that this isn’t their natural state. The Sisters are withered and sickly even for someone of their unprecedented age.

Suddenly I realize that I’m standing there, gaping at them like a person watching a train wreck instead of bowing like Ishiro. I drop to my knees and press my head to the floor.

“Kintaro’s heir will rise and come forward,” the
shobijin
say in unison.

I obey their command and come to stand directly before them. It takes every ounce of willpower I’ve got not to tremble in their presence.

“She is Sister Mosura,” the shobijin on my right says.

“And she is Sister Momoko,” the other shobijin says.

Or at least, I think that’s what they say. To be honest, I’m not sure if they are speaking at all. For even though I hear the priestesses talking, their lips remain still.

“We are—” Sister Mosura says.

“The priestesses of Gryphina,” Sister Momoko finishes.

“Your coming—” Sister Momoko begins

“Has been foretold, heir of Kintaro.” Sister Mosura continues.

“Heir of Kintaro the warrior.”

“And more importantly, heir of Kintaro the healer.”

“For it is you—”

“Who will heal our affliction.”

“And thus restore in full the Toho’s link to their dragon protector.”

“So that the laughter of children may once again be heard—”

“Along the paths of our village—”

“And our tribe continue to grow and prosper.”

Oh my! That’s why there aren’t any children in the village. The Toho are dying out! This must have been what Kitsune meant by the long, slow death of her tribe.

“For only an heir of Kintaro—” Sister Mosura continues.

“Can possibly succeed in this endeavor.” Sister Momoko finishes.

“You must travel deep into the mountains—”

“Crossing the territory of the Oni—”

“To the home of the mountain hag, Yamanba.”

“In her castle there lies a garden of golden flowers.”

“You must bring one of their number to us—”

“It is our only hope of restoration.”

“It is a quest wrought with danger.”

“But the Shokun’s son, Ishiro, will be there as your yojimbo—your bodyguard.”

“It is not for us that we ask this.”

“But for the good of Gryphina’s people.”

“For if we perish—”

“The link to Ryuu will be completely served—”

“And the Toho will not survive.”

“Now leave us—”

“For we must rest.”

With that, their blank eyes close in unison, dismissing us.

I whirl and exit the house. “I’m sorry, but there’s no way in heck I’m going back into Oni country! Uh-uh! No way! No how!”

Tanuki grins in response, his wide smile lifting his fleshy cheeks and turning them into pudgy twin balls.

The dragon’s triangle once again lived up to its reputation during the Pacific War. Many of the losses recorded by both sides of the conflict are now being reevaluated within the context of the strange occurrences that have plagued the area throughout recorded history...

—Excerpt from
The Dragon’s Triangle
, by James Clayton (2009)

“Q
uit jerking so hard, you...you jerk!”

My luck continues to improve the longer I stay on
Kaiju
Island
.

And yes, I’m being sarcastic.

Since being marooned on this not-so-fabled island, I’ve been chased by dragons, attacked by monsters, and imprisoned by robots. But that has all just been a build up to my current situation.

I now have the auspicious pleasure of being inescapably tethered at the wrist to Ishiro, the teenage warrior, and thus be forced to come along with him on some stupid quest right out of King Arthur to retrieve a magic, golden flower that will supposedly heal the local priestesses and save the day.

Not exactly a good week in the life of Raymond Nakajima, to say the least!

“If you would keep up, I would not have to, Outsider!” Ishiro says as he drags me toward a reed and bamboo house located along the village’s perimeter. It’s second in size only to the long house serving as the Toho seat of government.

“I’m trying,” I bark. “But with this backpack weighing me down and you yanking me around every which way, it ain’t exactly easy.”

Ishiro smiles at this.

“Ah, yes. Your pack of peaches.”

Despite the otherwise inhospitable treatment I’ve received since coming to the village of the Toho, they have served me a number of delicious foods. By far, my favorite Toho goodie is a white-skinned peach they serve as a desert.

The taste is phenomenal!

After my early experiences on
Kaiju
Island
, there was no way I was forging off into the woods again without food in abundance.

Ishiro can probably hunt for his food. But, my yojimbo or not, I can’t count on him to share with me. So I decided to come prepared.

Last night, after returning from the volcano home of the shobijin, I used materials lying around inside my hut to create a makeshift pack for carrying the pale-skinned delicacies. It’s heavy as heck, but I know I will be glad for it later.

“Little peach boy,” Ishiro laughs. “Little Momotaro!”

Just keep it up, stink-face! You have got to sleep sometime! Then you’re mine!

The entire village has come out to see us off on this sunny, late-summer day. But, their conduct isn’t like the cheering mobs one might expect to see gathered for such an occasion back in the States. The Toho are positioned in orderly formations on either side of us.
 
They sing and move in unison as they perform ritual dances.

Only the Toho elders don’t participate. They stand apart at our destination’s door, patiently awaiting us.

I glance back at the crowd, looking for Kitsune’s face. She is nowhere to be seen.

I make a last ditch effort to remove the rope tied around my wrist. But my attempts are in vain. Whatever knots Mujina tied to secure Ishiro and me together aren’t about to give up the secrets of their undoing.

If only I had Kusanagi!

We reach the elders. Ishiro bows, then yanks down on our tether, forcing me to pay my own respects.

Ishiro and his father, Shokun Mujina, turn to face each another. They stare at each other in silence as the Toho continue singing and dancing behind us. I recognize the look in Mujina’s hard eyes. It’s one I’ve seen countless times in the face of my own father.

“Succeed in this, my son,” Mujina says, “or you are dead to me and the rest of the Toho.”

For the first time since meeting Ishiro, I feel something toward him other than spite. Sympathy, if not outright compassion.

I guess where fathers and sons are concerned, things are tough all over.

My jaw drops when Ishiro’s only response is another bow in his father’s direction.

Tanuki places his hand on my shoulder. The jelly fat of his arm swings to and fro with the gesture.

“Of course Ishiro-sai will succeed! He has the heir of Kintaro as his partner!”

Mujina grunts in disdain.

A grin splits Bakeneko’s face but doesn’t reach her eyes. Somehow her expression is familiar to me.

“If the Shokun and his son lack Tanuki-sage’s faith in the outsider’s prowess, perhaps they will at least put more stock in that of the arms his people bear.”

Arms? My people? What on Earth is she talking about?

The elders step aside, opening a path to the door of the reed house.

“Ishiro-sai,” Mujina says, “you know what must be done. Exit through the rear. Until you return with the golden flower, you are not Toho, and so must remain apart.”

The elders bow and gesture for us to enter.

“Come, Momotaro-sai,” Ishiro barks, then slides open the door to the house.

He crosses the threshold. Having no choice, I follow. What I see inside leaves me speechless!

The reed and bamboo walls are covered with countless flags. They are tattered and threadbare, but nonetheless, I recognize many of them. Some date back to the middle ages.

Most numerous are the Japanese rising sun flags. And—like much needed reminders of home—several star-spangled Old Glories also adorn the walls!

But, dear Lord! Is that a confederate stars and bars I see?

As amazing as the flags are, they aren’t what astonish me the most. Arranged throughout the house are suits of rusted medieval armor, moth-eaten Renaissance era fashions, tattered log books, open chests of precious metals, rotted wooden kegs, and—best of all—weapons! Weapons of every description!

I reach out and grab a rusted cutlass that could’ve come right out of a Johnny Depp pirate movie.

I draw my arm in, pulling taut the rope fastening me to Ishiro.

“No, don’t!” Ishiro yells.