Year of the rat

A street rat is trained to be a shinobi

The dead cat's white fur had blackened from the rotting blood after festering in the sun for three days. Maggots squirmed in its milky lifeless-eyes; its purple guts pooled around its belly. Sweet incense lingered in the cool night air--the thin whisps of smoke floated like white translucent silk in the lantern light; the fragrant remnants in the bronze braziers lining the palace walls did little to suppress the stench from NoSu city. Guard Matsuo was grateful to not be working during the day when the sun was at its peak, when the city's stench was unbearable. Having spent his life in the provinces, far from NoSu, he was unused to the smell of civilization. He grew up around fragrant flowers and earthy greens not the hard compacted dirt roads and stone buildings of the masses.

He continued his patrol around the palace and gagged when he got a whiff of the cat. Flies buzzed angrily at having their meal interrupted as Guard Matsuo stepped over the body--even while feasting, flies still found reasons to complain. The dead were a common sight in the city, especially at night--he was grateful it wasn't a person. Of course, most people weren't killed this close to the palace, the gangs knew to keep their little wars away from the city's true power. Lord Nobukazu ruled over the most prosperous city in all of Wa, while they quarrelled over a which street they controlled.

In the distance, a nightingale chirped and another answered. Soon, the night was a chorus of birds singing. Guard Matsuo listened to their music, something he rarely heard since he moved out of the rural province. For a moment, he forgot he was in the city and was transported back home. He let their songs wash over him and allowed himself a slight smile. It finished as suddenly as it had started and he was greeted by the cold indifference of the city at night.

The humidity was oppressive. Even the cool breeze from the ocean did little to keep Guard Matsuo comfortable. He shifted to let the wind find the cracks in his armour, but the air was not nearly cool enough to be effective. The night was quiet--as quiet as a city the size of NoSu could get. With over two hundred thousand people living within its borders, the city never truly rested. At night, criminals and feral dogs roamed the streets looking for prey, while bakers and artisans worked to prepare their goods to sell in the morning; women comforted their crying children while whores sold their bodies for coins.

Guard Matsuo glanced around to see if anyone was watching him; satisfied that he was alone, he leaned his spear against the palace's outer wall, laced his fingers together, and stretched them over his head. He let out a low groan of pleasure as his back made a satisfying crack. He was still adjusting to wearing armour every day. The steel breastplate weighed heavily on his shoulders; the strain often caused his body to ache. He was afraid to show weakness; honour forced him to endure any type of hardships or discomforts, especially in front of the other guards. He picked up his spear and continued his patrol. Circling the palace grounds all night was tedious at best. However, because the white unadorned walls represented a significant step forward for him and his family, he would endure any hardships.
          His father had served the Nobukazu clan his whole life but never achieved more than the lowest status with an insignificant stipend that barely kept his family fed. In order to provide for his family, his father would build and sell small cages for insects and birds out of bamboo he gathered from the nearby forest. As a child, Matsuo and his brother would climb the nearby cliffs and trees to capture singing crickets and songbirds to fill the cages to make a little extra money. It was shameful to be lowered to the status of an artisan, or worse, a merchant to survive, but it was the only way his father could provide for his family.

But all of that was behind him. Guard Matsuo was one of Lord Nobukazu's palace guards, which meant his stipend, and--more importantly--his status had increased. As a trained warrior, he had many offers to work for wealthy merchants or lesser lords as a bodyguard. They all offered great wealth, but none of them had the prestige of working for the lord of NoSu and none of them could provide him the honour he had now. The greater wealth the merchants offered was tempting, but they failed to provide the honour he gained through his position. With his new stipend, he could now afford to support his family without having to degrade himself by selling cages. Of course, working all night meant that he rarely saw his family, but that was of little consequence when compared to all they gained in return. That alone would keep Guard Matsuo loyal to Lord Nobukau for the rest of his life.

In spite of the tedium, Guard Matsuo was well-disciplined and alert. He caught every movement. Every stray dog, cat, or whore hiding in the shadows caught his attention. Rats and criminals scurried between the buildings, hiding from the lantern light. None of them came close to the palace, staying far from the outer perimeter--the large area cleared of buildings and trees that surrounded the palace. He continued his patrol, passing Guard Yoson on the way by. Dressed in the same uniform, Guard Yoson's polished black armour shone in the moonlight, Lord Nobukazu's crest--a yellow wasp--was painted in the centre of his breastplate with a second painted on his black, iron conical helmet.

They acknowledged each other with a slight bow and continued on. Guard Matsuo hadn't been employed by Lord Nobukazu long enough to get to know many of the other guards, but Yoson seemed friendly enough. Matsuo thought of inviting him out for a drink one of these days. Matsuo turned a corner when he heard a quiet grunt followed by a clattering from behind him. Nightingales began their song again. Guard Mastuo smiled and looked back over his shoulder. "Guard Yoson, did you drop your spear?" he called out. There was no answer. "Guard Yoson, what's the matter? It's fine if you tripped, I won't tell anyone." He was greeted with silence. Guard Matsuo frowned and started back to where he last saw Yoson. "Guard Yoson, are you alright?"

He turned the corner. Guard Yoson's body laid face down in the road, blood, coloured black in the night, covered the white wall behind him. Matsuo's heart raced; cold sweat dripped down his spine. He saw movement in the shadows near the wall and moved toward it. "Is someone there?" he called to the night, his spear readied. A black figure darted out of the wall's shadow and quickly ran away from him. "Hey!" he shouted. "Stop!" The figure didn't slow. It was a man dressed in black from head to foot, his face veiled behind a black mask covering everything but for a wide slit for his eyes. "Shinobi," he said to himself, his voice barely above a whisper from the shock. Guard Matsuo recovered quickly and sprinted after him. "Stop!" he shouted again. Guard Matsuo dropped his spear, pulled a small gong hanging from his belt, and banged it furiously with a small hammer as he continued his chase. "Intruder! Intruder!" he shouted.

The shinobi darted down a dark alley, knocking a beggar to the ground. Guard Matsuo followed, hurdling over the sprawled man. The alley was dark and the ground was littered with refuse and sleeping street rats. These non-people disgusted him. Their presence polluted his beautiful city. He wouldn't let any obstacles slow him down, it was no different than chasing songbirds through the thick forest where he grew up. The shinobi took a quick left down another alley; Matsuo followed quickly after. However, when Guard Matsuo turned the corner, the shinobi was already on the far end. The shinobi stood, staring at him. Guard Matsuo froze. "Impossible," he whispered. He had heard of shinobi magic but he didn't believe in it. Rumour said that they could run at incredible speeds, jump impossibly high, be in two places at once, and even teleport. But those were only rumours. Magic wasn't real.

The shinobi turned and ran. Guard Matsuo's instincts kicked in and he pursued. "Intruder," he shouted. He banged the gong again as he ran. He didn't know if any of the guards could hear him, or if they were following, but it didn't matter because he had a job to do.

He had been quick and athletic his whole life. He sprinted as hard as he could and gained on the shinobi. He was almost close enough to grab him until the shinobi disappeared around a corner, down a narrow street. Guard Matsuo followed. He nearly tripped over the legs of one of the street people who was sleeping under some trash. Again, the shinobi was much farther ahead than he should be. This time Guard Matsuo didn't slow. Something flashed from the shinobi's hands. It tore into Guard Matsuo's face. Blood poured from his cheek. He didn't slow. He would die to protect his lord.

He ran harder, desperate to catch the intruder. The shinobi rounded another corner. Guard Matsuo followed, nearly slipping on some gravel; he kept his footing and continued the chase. The shinobi was impossibly far ahead again, but he was trapped. The street came to a dead end. He was surrounded on all sides by walls. Guard Matsuo slowed and drew his sword. He walked with dignity, fighting the urge to gasp for breath, unwilling to show any weakness. The shinobi was standing at the end of the street, surrounded by tall buildings. He still looked fresh even after the chase. Guard Matsou gripped his sword with both hands and walked slowly toward the trapped shinobi.

"Do not move," he said, his voice was strong in spite of how tired he was. It took all his will to keep his voice from shaking. "You are under arrest. You can either surrender peacefully or I will be forced to take your head back to my lord."

The shinobi said nothing. He turned his back to Guard Matsuo and jumped. He jumped higher than was possible, jumping until he reached halfway up the wall and began climbing like a spider up the side of the shear surface at an incredible speed. Guard Matsuo ran after him but he was already pulling himself over the edge of the wall and onto the roof by the time Guard Matsuo got there.

"Dammit, dammit," he shouted at the night. He jumped and swung his sword at the shinobi, hitting nothing but air. He kicked a crate and punched the wall. "Come back here, you coward."

Guard Matsuo ran back to the alley's entrance so he could see the rooftops better. He could just make out a dark figure moving away from him. In the distance, he could hear other guards shouting at each other as they searched the area for the intruder. He called out to them. He was frantic. He needed to get someone's attention. He needed to catch the shinobi. He called out again. They must not have heard him, because there was no response. He grabbed the gong from his belt; he was still looking up at the rooftops, tracking the figure as it continued to move away from him.

Pain shot through his body. He let out a quiet gasp. He reached up and felt a blade protruding from his neck. He tried to look down but the steel wouldn't let him move his head. He stood in shock, unable to react. The knife was jerked out. Blood sprayed from his wound onto the alley floor. He tried to scream but he couldn't; all that came out was a muffled gurgle. He turned around and reached for his sword. But he was too weak. His hands shook; his legs gave out. He fell to his knees and his head drooped. He watched as his blood poured from his body. Two black feet stepped into his view. He looked up and saw the shinobi looking down at him.

Guard Matsuo briefly wondered how he got down from the rooftops so quickly. The world grew cold and his vision slowly faded. As he let go of life, his thoughts weren't on his wife and young daughter, but on how he failed to catch the intruder, that he failed in his duty to his lord. He could feel no greater shame.