Dreaming

The realm of dreams is erratic and nonsensical. Sometimes these dreams are vivid and one cannot draw the line between what is dream, and what is reality.

You blink. It’s too misty to see anything.

Misty, or steamy? you ask yourself. You can feel cold tiles underfoot.

Suddenly you realise you’re naked. You can feel the warm droplets of water still clinging to your body.

The steam begins to clear a little, and you notice a person standing in front of you. You jump a little from the shock, before realising it must be a mirror. As you walk closer, you begin to realise that the person in the mirror isn’t you.

‘That’s not my face,’ you say, before gasping. ‘That’s not my voice either.’

You run your hands, no, you run these foreign hands over this foreign face, examining its features. Still confused, you begin to shiver. You search, but you cannot find any clothes nearby, so you wear the closest thing to clothing available; a towel.

You exit the bathroom. The last of the steam follows you into the hallway. It’s dark, but you can hear the sound of a television playing. You walk towards the sound, down the hallway

Left turn. Right turn. Finally, you are in the living room. The front door is to your left, but you are more focused on the room you’re standing in. It looks like it belongs to a multimillionaire. A television with measurements larger than you could even guess is mounted on the wall, black leather couches positioned in front of it. An ivory coffee table sits on top of a large and thick sheepskin rug.

Ding.

The doorbell rings. You wait for a dong sound to follow, but it never comes. You decide to answer the door. You swing the thick oak door back and pause.

The person standing in front of you is Alex.

‘Uh, hi Alex,’ you say. It still isn’t your voice, but you are beginning to become accustomed to this strange situation.

‘Aren’t you going to let me in?’

Alex steps forwards and then shoves you to the ground. Your makeshift clothing malfunctions and you are left defenceless on the floor.

‘I’m hungry, let’s eat.’

Tendrils burst from Alex’s body and fly towards you. You stand quickly and run, but you are too late. Alex’s tendrils ensnare you and drag you along the floor.

‘You do look delicious.’

You look up, only to be greeted by the sight of Alex’s gaping black maw. You struggle, but can’t budge an inch. Screaming is the only option as you are devoured by blackness.

You jolt awake in bed.

‘Just a dream,’ you say. Your voice has returned to normal. You look down and see your own body.

A sigh of relief escapes you. A quick glance over at the clock tells you it is four in the morning. You sigh again, but this time, it’s one of annoyance.

‘Four am is too early to be awake,’ you say, rolling over.

You see a strange man lying beside you. He is balding, and his black moustache is reminiscent of that you recall seeing on an Italian plumber.

You scream. There shouldn’t be a balding, moustached plumber man in your bed. You throw the blankets off you and dash out of the bedroom. You sprint straight for the front door and run onto the road.

A car horn sounds and brakes screech, but you cannot dodge it.

Thwack!

The ruler cracks on your desk. You sit upright and rub your eyes groggily.

‘Whaa…?’ You stare around the room. You are in a classroom; your high school classroom. Your old maths teacher stares you down, tapping the ruler on the edge of your desk.

I’m in high school still? you ask yourself. I thought I had graduated…?

‘What year is it?’ you ask.

Your maths teacher laughs sarcastically. ‘If you have to ask that then I should just fail you now!’

You wait patiently for a straight answer, but it doesn’t come.

‘Now I know corporal punishment is no longer allowed in schools,’ your teacher says, ‘but your continued display of arrogance and disinterest in my classes gives me no other choice.’

You feel the ruler strike you across the cheek. Your vision flashes red, then white, and then everything fades to blackness.

You wake up. You immediately look to your side; there’s no plumber invading your bed. You sigh thankfully.

‘What strange dreams,’ you say.

You get out of bed; nature’s calling you. You wipe your eyes and open your bedroom door. A masked man greets you.

‘Surprise.’

He points a gun at you and fires. The bullet tears through your chest, but it misses anything vital. Searing pain shoots through your body and you choke up as you watch your own blood splash onto the floor.

‘I missed, darn,’ the man says, standing above you. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t miss this time.’

He aims the gun directly at your head and fires.

Consciousness returns. Your eyes hurt from having them scrunched tight, but you don’t dare open them.

‘No more nightmares,’ you plead aloud.

You start to feel warm, very warm. Your left arm feels like it’s on fire. You quickly open your eyes and find that your left arm is actually on fire.

You scream and flail about. After employing the Stop, Drop, Roll tactic, you finally manage to put it out. Remarkably, your arm shows no sign of burning or scarring.

Intrigued, you examine your surroundings. Dirt and rock surround you for as far as the eye can see. It is in front of you, behind you, beside you, below you and, most distressingly, above you. The only variation to the rocky crags monopolising your vision are the spot fires, burning without fuel.

‘Where am I?’ you ask aloud.

You turn and see a man staring at you. He is wearing a black robe and a large gold medallion. He smiles at you; his face is sinister and intimidating.

‘I must be dreaming still,’ you say. You slap your face to try and bring yourself around.

‘Fraid not,’ the man says, chuckling. He spreads his arms wide, welcoming you. His right hand is purely bone.

‘Welcome to hell.’

Dragon Hunter

The villagers of Ridgewood lies unsuspecting of the threat about to assault them. Having had little trouble, even from bandits, for many years, the townsfolk are unprepared for one of the most lethal things on the planet -- a dragon.

The moon was shrouded, hidden behind cloud. Its absence blanketed the village in almost complete darkness. Unbeknownst to the villagers, a threat approached them. The danger was far from silent, but the noise from the tavern would have disguised even the sound of a volcano’s eruption. The creature flew low, its wings beating against the warm night air. The dense cloud cover had accentuated the lights of the village, making it the only illuminated part of the country for several miles.

Glarif slammed his empty mug down on the table. ‘Aye, that’s me done for tonight,’ he said, hiccupping. ‘Time ta away!’ He stood and promptly fell backwards onto the tavern floor.

His companions roared with laughter. Glarif rolled onto his stomach and pried himself up off the floor. Once he had regained his footing, he took several moments to ensure he could walk.

‘I think I got it this time!’ he shouted, raising a fist in celebration. ‘Same time tomorra then boys?’

Shouts of agreement were given, so Glarif turned his back and stumbled towards the doors. It took him several attempts to open them, until he realised there was no handle.

‘I see! All you hafta do is push!’ He leant on the swinging doors and fell through them and, after a tumble and roll, found himself on the ground outside.

‘Seems we got some fancy teleportin’ doors here, eh?’ he said, guffawing. ‘Teleports ya into the ground!’

Once again he dusted himself off and climbed to his feet. As Glarif looked up at the night sky, a gap in the clouds passed over the moon. The sudden light illuminated the village, revealing the silhouette of a creature approaching.

Glarif didn’t notice it at first, but then he began to hear the beating of wings.

‘Ere, a lot of bats out tonight,’ he said, scanning the sky for a sign of them. His eyes fell on the silhouette fast approaching the village. ‘That there is one big bat…’

There was a deafening screech, loud enough to drown out the noise from the tavern behind Glarif. He pivoted on his heels and dove back through the swinging doors. The tavern goers erupted into laughter again.

‘Shut it!’ Glarif roared. ‘Dragon! Dragon! There’s a fuckin’ dragon coming!’

‘You’ve had too much to drink, old fella,’ the barkeep said. ‘You need to go home and sleep it off.’

‘No really! It’s coming towards us now. I thought to meself that the beatin’ was just lots a bats, but there’s a fuckin’ dragon out there!’

‘Now listen here, Glarif, you’re disrupting me customers,’ the barkeep said, his voice taking a stern edge. ‘I’ll believe there’s a dragon coming when I…’

There was a large cracking sound as the roof of the tavern was ripped off, splinters spraying down onto the occupants.

‘…see one.’

The villagers in the tavern scattered. Most of them fled to their homes, either to retrieve weapons or to hide with their families. Several men fled the town altogether, hoping to put as much distance between them and inevitable destruction as possible.

Glarif made his way home, the alcohol wearing off quickly and adrenaline taking hold. He burst through his front doors and ran straight for his bedroom, where he kept his weapons.

‘What’s wrong?’ his wife asked, startled.

He just answered with one word. ‘Dragon.’

She leapt out of bed and hurried to fetch their son.

‘Stay here, hidden, low, unless there’s fire or the dragon is here,’ Glarif warned her before returning his attention to his weaponry.

He picked up his long bow and tested the string. ‘No good,’ he said, tossing it on the bed. ‘Can’t shoot straight with this many beers under me belt.’

He strapped his sword to his side and began to leave. He hesitated, before returning and grabbing his bow and quiver.

‘Maybe someone else could use this.’

When he returned outside, the battle was already raging. The dragon was using hit-and-run tactics to take out a number of its assailants and to avoid arrow fire. Glarif sprinted over towards two archers taking cover behind the wrecked tavern.

‘We got any strategy here?’ Glarif asked.

‘Shoot in its general direction is about all we’ve got so far,’ the short, balding man said. ‘Nobody has even come close to annoying it, let alone hurting it.’

Glarif stroked his auburn beard. ‘Let me think a moment,’ he said. ‘What if we…’

The dragon swooped down again, latching onto a man and lifting him up into the air. The dragon roared and pulled the man’s arms off. He plummeted, screaming all the while, and crashed through a roof, dying on impact.

‘Shit shit shit shit, we need to do somethin’ bout that dragon soon, or we’re dragon chow.’

A traveller ducked around the corner and pressed himself tight up against the wall for cover. ‘So this is where you’re hiding,’ he said. ‘Any of you have a decent shot?’

They gave him a blank stare.

‘Am I speaking a foreign language or something?’ He gestured towards the bow in Glarif’s hand. ‘You got a bow, so do these other clowns. How about you use them?’

‘And how are we supposed to do anything to that damn thing?’ one of the men asked. ‘We’ve been firin’ at it and it hasn’t done shit.’

‘That’s because you didn’t have me directing you,’ the traveller said. ‘Now, gimme that.’

He took Glarif’s bow and a single arrow. ‘Now what we have to do is annoy the fucker. We keep grazing him with arrows and then popping out of sight,’ he explained. ‘Once he gets pissed off, he’ll land and try and sniff us out. That or burn us out, either way.’

‘And we want him to try and kill us because…?’ Glarif asked.

‘Because if he’s on the ground, he’s close enough to stab.’

The traveller popped out from behind his cover and launched the arrow in the direction of the dragon. It struck the creature in the wing and punctured the soft membrane.

‘Well that was a nice accident,’ the traveller laughed. He turned back to the other men. ‘A few more of those and we can ground the beast!’

Now significantly enraged, the dragon began to attack more frequently, giving the men more opportunities to launch a volley of arrows. After several successful attempts, and as many unsuccessful, the creature descended upon them. Its sudden appearance on ground level caused the assailants to freeze in fear, fortunately hidden behind cover.

The dragon, now illuminated by the lights of the village, had an even more imposing figure. It was lean, but the dragon’s strength was obvious. The scales shimmered ruby red on top, slowly melting into obsidian. Its tail flicked from side to side in an almost enchanting fashion. Razor sharp claws tore at the earth with each step.

‘Okay, I’ve got a plan,’ the traveller whispered. ‘But I’m gonna need some rope. Anywhere we can get some, post haste?’

‘There’s some in the tavern,’ Glarif said. ‘I can crawl in and grab it.’

‘Perfect. Stay out of sight.’

Glarif grunted in acknowledgement. As he crawled away, pressed tight to the ground, the traveller turned to his remaining companions. ‘Here’s what we need to do.’

‘You there,’ he whispered. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Bryant.’

‘Right, right. Bryant, I’m Jorgen. You look quick.’

‘Fastest in the village,’ he boasted.

‘And quickest to run away from a fight,’ the other man added.

‘I’ll tear you in half, Arda,’ Bryant growled.

‘Enough, enough,’ Jorgen said. ‘Running away from a fight will come in handy here anyway. I need you to act as a distraction, momentarily. Meanwhile, the rest of you will be holding the rope.’

‘What’s the rope for?’ Bryant asked.

‘Ah, that’s where my dazzling intellect shows itself,’ Jorgen said. ‘I’m going to run out there while the dragon is distracted, slide under its legs and stab it in the underbelly. Then you guys will pull me back as quick as can be.’

‘Is that really the best plan you could come up with?’ Arda asked.

‘Don’t sound too bright,’ Glarif added as he returned.

‘It’s not like we have time to sit down and consider every option, is it?’

‘I guess not,’ Arda admitted.

‘Right. Well, that beast is going to start thrashing wildly once I attack it. If I die, I’m going to haunt you bastards,’ Jorgen said. ‘But by all means, if you have a better idea, do share.’

The others grumbled amongst themselves. Nobody else had a plan, so there was no other alternative. Jorgen began tying the rope around his waist.

Glarif sniffed the air. ‘Do you smell that?’

‘Smell what Glarif, did you wet yourself?’ Arda chuckled.

‘Smells like sulphur…’

The dragon roared as it appeared around the corner. Bryant bolted, heading towards his home. The others ducked around the side of the tavern and fled to a nearby store, hiding behind the walls. Bryant had, fortunately, drawn the complete attention of the dragon; he obviously looked like a tasty snack.

‘Ready?’ Jorgen asked.

Glarif nodded. ‘Aye.’

‘Don’t let me down boys,’ Jorgen said, before sprinting after the dragon.

The dragon heard him coming, and swiped back and forth with its tail. Jorgen ducked the attacks and slid. The rocky ground tore at his clothes and flesh, but Jorgen was completely focused on the task at hand. He gripped the handle of his blade and thrust it upwards, piercing the flesh of the dragon.

Immediately, Jorgen felt himself being pulled. The dragon tried to slash at him with claws and tail, but Jorgen was moving too quickly and the beast was weakening. Dust billowed about as the dragon took flight, screeching in agony. Now safe, Jorgen felt the immense pain catching up to him and screamed. Arda ran over to attend to him, leaving Glarif collapsed on the ground with fatigue.

‘Well that’s that then,’ Glarif said. ‘Time for a beer.’





Hugh woke to the sound of hustle and bustle in the village. He immediately catapulted himself out of bed and ran outside to see what the commotion was. Life in the village was boring for a youngster such as himself, so this morning’s strangely high level of activity had perked his curiosity.

The town was a mess. Wreckage from the tavern roof had been scattered, and there were burn marks on the sides of several buildings and on the ground.

Hugh scratched his head. ‘When did this all happen then?’

He strolled through the village, trying to find out what had happened. He saw the mayor standing atop a wooden box in front of the ruined tavern.

‘Gather round folks, gather round,’ he shouted. ‘That’s it, come in close, yes, yes that includes you too, Kern.’

Hugh ran over to join the assembled crowd of men and women. ‘This should be exciting,’ he whispered to himself.

‘Excellent, excellent. Now everybody listen up,’ the mayor said. ‘I’ve been informed that the dragon has retreated to the cave in the east.’

There were murmurs throughout the crowd, and several sharp cries of surprise and fear.

‘We all know how close that is, so we now need to decide what to do about the situation.’

‘Let’s burn it out!’

‘We should go up there right now and stab it some more!’

‘Call in help from Lusoa and storm the cave!’

‘Just leave it there,’ one man shouted. ‘After all, it didn’t do us no harm.’

He was promptly floored by the man standing next to him, who happened to be in the tavern owner.

‘He wrecked me tavern you dolt,’ the man said. ‘No more beer until that thing is outta here!’

There were loud cries of disappointment from the crowd, but not even the threat of no alcohol was enough to convince them to walk into such peril.

Hugh clapped his hands. ‘Sounds like a job for a hero!’ he said. ‘I’ll go get my shield and my sword and beat the dragon and save the day!’

He ran back to his house and fished through his treasure chest. He found his hero equipment and set them down on his bed.

‘I’d better change into my adventuring clothes too,’ Hugh said to himself.

He quickly dressed, then strapped his wooden sword to his waist.

‘Awesome,’ he said, picking up his shield. ‘Time to go kill a dragon!’

As soon as he stepped outside, Hugh heard a voice call out to him. He turned to find its owner, and saw a young girl run towards him.

‘Huey, where are you going?’ she asked. ‘Tell me pleeeeeease.’

‘Oh, Mimi, you are just in time!’ Hugh said. ‘We hafta go kill a dragon!’

‘Another one already?’ Mimi gasped. ‘Did it take away the princess again?’

‘It sure did,’ Hugh said, beaming. ‘Quickly, get your sword and we can go and battle it!’

They ran over to Mimi’s house to fetch her sword and then headed for the village exit. They were able to slip out unnoticed, as the adults were all busy with the cleanup efforts.

‘Where are we going today, brave Sir Huey?’ Mimi asked.

‘The evil dragon is in the cave,’ Hugh said. ‘Where all the pretty flowers are, Lady Mimi!’

‘Oh no, not my favourite flowers!’

‘Yah-huh, your favourite flowers!’

‘Well,’ Mimi pouted, ‘we’re just gonna hafta teach that nasty dragon a lesson.’

They wandered through the light forestation next to the village, pretending it was evil and haunted. Their destination was less than a mile away, a distance easily travelled when it seemed like an adventure. The two children duelled with each other, taking great care not to injure their companion before the final battle.

After half an hour, they spied the cavern mouth. There was no light emanating from within, creating the perfect hiding spot for their prey.

‘That’s the dragon’s secret lair!’ Hugh said.

‘Shhh, we have to sneak up on it,’ Mimi whispered. ‘Otherwise it might gobble us up!’

‘Yah-huh, that’s right. Quick and quiet we are.’

As they approached, the ground started to shake. The children continued on until the dragon’s scaly head appeared from the dark cave.

Mimi screamed and fled, abandoning her wooden sword. The dragon swept its tail out and captured her, its scales scratching against her clothes and skin.

‘Help me Huey!’ she cried. ‘It hurts, it hurts!’

The dragon glared at Hugh, and began growling. It obviously didn’t see him as a large enough meal, but the wooden sword held fast in Hugh’s hand made it feel threatened.

‘Put her down you ugly dragon!’ Hugh yelled, brandishing his weapon as menacingly as he could. ‘Put her down or I’ll stab you!’

There was a roar as the dragon loosed its fiery breath, incinerating the trees around Hugh. It returned its gaze to the small boy, waiting for him to make a move. The creature was still wounded; every movement caused it great pain.

‘Right, this is it,’ Hugh said under his breath. ‘I’ll charge at it and take it down in one attack.’

He began to count in his head.

One.

Two.

Three!

He began to run straight for the dragon, but a force threw him backwards onto the ground. Hugh rolled over and looked up to see a strange man with a sword.

‘Stay back kid,’ he said. ‘And hold this.’

The stranger tossed his backpack beside Hugh, freeing up some movement. The dragon screeched, feeling significantly more threatened by this new arrival. The stranger widened his footing and fell into a battle stance.

‘Go.’

He dashed left and right, moving faster than Hugh had ever seen someone move before. The stranger attacked the dragon on its left, before launching himself over its back and slashing at the dragon’s tail.

The dragon cried out in pain, releasing Mimi from its grasp. The stranger caught her as she fell and quickly told her to run to where Hugh was sitting. His brief lapse in concentration allowed the dragon to attack. It swiped at the man, who could only attempt to parry the attack. He was thrown backwards from the force, but quickly regained his footing.

‘Not bad,’ he said. ‘Movement’s a bit laboured. Are you hurt, filthy wyrm?’

The creature screamed, as if responding to him. It unfurled its wings, preparing to take flight.

‘You’re too hurt to escape,’ the stranger said, noting the small pool of blood collecting beneath the dragon. ‘I guess your plan is to get some height and try to scorch me then, is that it?’

The dragon screamed once more, rearing back onto its hind legs. The stranger dashed forwards, trying to catch it in this moment of vulnerability. Before the dragon could take off, the stranger had thrust his sword into its underbelly, piercing its heart in the process.

There was one last roar of pain, before the dragon collapsed in a heap. The stranger watched it for a moment, making sure it was dead, before returning to the kids.

‘Come on then,’ he said. ‘Let’s get you two home.’





The man returned to the village to the sound of applause, Mimi and Hugh sitting atop his shoulders. He set them down, and they ran over to their families.

‘How can we ever thank you?’ the mayor asked. ‘You not only defeated the dragon, but you rescued these two young children as well!’

The man shrugged. ‘I’ve fought tougher.’

‘Oh, well, uh, that is marvellous, mister…’

‘Georg. Call me Georg.’

‘Well Georg, is there anything we, the humble villagers of Ridgewood, can offer you?’

Georg paused for a moment. ‘I could use a beer.’

The crowd erupted with cheering.

Spirit Ninja

The influence of the Western World is expanding, invading the East. But not all is lost; the last village of the ninja remains untouched and, in this secluded little world, a young ninja is about to find his feet.

‘Deep in the valleys of the Hotaka Mountains, remnants of an ancient culture linger. Hidden beneath the lush forests lies a single village, preserved from the Western influence which has swept across the nation. While not completely isolated from the rapidly changing world, it serves as a last bastion for those who would resist the flow of time.

‘Here, in Togakure, the ninja live on. From the age of five, children are conditioned both mentally and physically, taught the skills their forefathers honed in preparation for their own service to the Emperor. In addition, children learn academic skills such as mathematics, history and English, to aid them in their work.

‘That’s what Mother told me, Yuko,’ I said. ‘So that’s why you have to study hard, okay?’

Yuko nodded slowly. Her eyes glistened; her expression appeared to be in a state of permanent sadness. Even when she smiled, she looked pained. Mother said Yuko was always sad because she couldn’t speak to us, couldn’t tell us how she was feeling.

‘Even though you can’t speak, you can still do other things like the rest of us,’ I explained. ‘So make sure you do all the work Natsumi sensei set for you. We’ll both get in trouble off Mother if you don’t.’

Yuko sighed and stood, clutching her teddy bear. She pointed towards her bedroom and signalled for me to follow.

‘Want me to tuck you in then?’ Asking simple questions with yes or no answers was the easiest way to communicate with Yuko. It saved trouble trying to decipher what she was trying to say, even though I had become better at reading her facial expressions. At least, reading the face hidden behind the veil of sadness.

She nodded again. I held her free hand as we walked. Yuko clambered into bed, gripping the bear tightly for comfort.

‘Oyasuminasai. Good night, Yuko.’ I laid the blankets over her. Yawning, Yuko closed her eyes. I kissed her forehead softly and left, extinguishing her bedroom lamp.

I should be getting to bed as well. Especially because I have training with Daichi sensei tomorrow.

I groaned inwardly. I was hopeless at the physical aspects of being a ninja. All of the theory I handled fine; I could read, write and speak both Japanese and English better than any of the other students. But when it came to Daichi sensei’s practical training...

‘I’ll have to train harder tomorrow…’




Like I had done every morning for the past twelve years of my life, I woke at dawn. I fixed myself breakfast quickly before heading down to the training fields.

I don’t want to be late and give Daichi sensei another reason to fail me.

I wasn’t the first student there. Several of the others had arrived for some early morning practice. Itsuki and Suzume were racing each other up trees, while Jiro and Riku were wrestling on the ground. As I walked over to the group of students loitering, a voice called out to me.

‘Toshi, ohayo.’

I turned to meet the voice. It was Kenta. To say we didn’t get along would be an understatement. He made it his mission to make my life misery. Even his greeting had a sarcastic tone.

‘Good morning, Kenta.’

‘Care for a bit of early morning practice, Toshi?’ Kenta asked. ‘I know you need all the help you can get.’

I didn’t answer. I turned and continued walking towards the other students, but a sharp pain shot through my shoulder. A rock landed in the dirt at my feet.

‘Don’t you know it’s rude to turn your back when someone’s talking to you?’ Kenta spat. ‘I guess you’re just as much a failure in Natsumi sensei’s classes as you are in Daichi sensei’s.’

My fists clenched of their own accord. I spun and flung myself at Kenta, tackling him to the dirt. We rolled around, each trying to gain the advantage. It wasn’t long before Kenta’s strength overpowered my own. I was pinned on my back, completely at his mercy.

Kenta swung once; the blow struck my left cheek, bruising but not splitting the flesh. My vision blurred, but it focused in time to see Kenta line up his second hit. Before he could swing, the sound of Daichi sensei’s voice cut through the air and demanded obedience.

Kenta leapt off, dusted himself and tried to put some distance between us. I slowly got to my feet, trying to look as innocent as I could. Kenta and I both knew Daichi sensei would be unimpressed by our lack of discipline. I didn’t have the advantage of being Daichi sensei’s favourite student.

I can just imagine his smug face.

Daichi sensei walked straight towards me. Even without speaking I knew what he wanted. He wanted an explanation.

‘I don’t have an explanation for you sensei. I am sorry.’ I bowed deeply.

Daichi sensei muttered to himself as he walked away. He directed the class to follow. I stood trembling for several moments, until Itsuki called out to me.

‘I’m coming.’




The day was over and it had once again held only failure and embarrassment. I was more than ready to return home and recover. But the fates conspired against me. Daichi sensei wanted to talk after class had finished. I followed him, silently, along the path to the school house, where Natsumi sensei was waiting for us.

‘Toshi, you are aware that your final exams are next week, correct?’ Natsumi sensei asked.

I thought I had a little more time.

‘Yes, sensei.’

‘And you are aware that, if you perform as you have been during Daichi sensei’s classes, you will not graduate, correct?’

‘Yes, sensei.’

Way to rub it in.

‘Then that is all. You may go.’

I bowed and left quickly. I ran straight home, tears welling in my eyes, and retreated to the garden. Yuko followed, sitting beside me on the grass. She clung to me, trying to comfort me.

‘Thank you, Yuko.’

Her mouth spread wide into a cheesy grin. She pointed at herself, and then to me.

‘You want me to smile?’

Nodding, Yuko retrieved two sheets of paper from her pocket and handed them to me. One had the character for kokoro, for spirit, written on it. The other had the characters for jishin, self confidence.

Yuko stood, smiled, and then ran back inside. I looked over the two pieces of paper once again before placing them in my pocket.

Thank you, Yuko.

I stared at the makeshift target in the garden. It stood there, mocking me, taunting me, reminding me of my failings. As my resolve wavered, I thought of Yuko’s smiling face and the paper in my pocket. The thoughts of despair and futility were replaced by determination.

‘I’m going to stay here and practice until I can do it perfectly.’

I fetched a throwing knife from the satchel I had discarded earlier.

‘Here goes nothing.’

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes. I visualised the target. As my eyes opened, I raised my arm and then let loose. The knife spun and slapped flat into the edge of the target and fell to the ground.

I yelled. I yelled long and loud until my throat hurt. ‘Why won’t you just go into the target?’

I collapsed to the ground, defeated.

‘All you have to do is go in tip first.’ I gestured towards the target. The knife stabbed into the target briefly, before falling to the ground.

I blinked and wiped away the tears. ‘Did that just float?’ I stared blankly, trying to comprehend what had happened. I walked over to the target. In the dead centre was a small chip mark in the wood.

‘I did it!’ I danced around, amazed at my success. The knife hadn’t stuck, but that didn’t matter. It had stabbed into the target, moved only by my mind. I continued my target practice with renewed determination.

But first I have to learn how to make them move.

I stared at the throwing knife intently, willing it to move. It seemed to budge, only slightly.

Maybe my arms had something to do with it.

I tried again, staring at the knife, but this time I brought my right arm up slowly until it was parallel to the ground. The throwing knife followed, floating upwards until it just hung there, suspended in midair.

‘Let’s see what else I can do.’ I cupped my hand and gently moved my arm left, like I was opening a sliding door. I drew my hand back toward my chest and, once again, the knife followed.

‘What if I make sharp movements?’ I shot my arm out forwards, directed towards the target. There air rippled as the knife flew forwards and embedded in the outer ring of the target.

‘That’s more like it,’ I laughed.

I practised repeatedly, learning the feel of the kunai, just as Daichi sensei had taught me in class. Only now I wasn’t feeling the physical weight. I started getting more efficient, more accurate. Once I had achieved several consecutive hits in the dead centre of the target, I decided to increase the difficulty.

‘Let’s try two at once.’

Controlling two objects was more of a challenge than I had anticipated. The process was exactly the same as before, but required a great deal more concentration. I practised repeatedly until the last of the light had disappeared behind the mountains. The exercise had drained me both mentally and physically, so I collapsed into my bed without eating.




Once again, I rose with the sun. Today was Sunday; no classes. I decided to spend the day training by the waterfall. It wasn’t far out of the village, and I would have a nice secluded spot to practise my new-found skill.

The dirt path brought me to the familiar fork; left would take me to the top of the waterfall, right would take me to the bottom. As a child, I had always been forbidden from going to the top of the waterfall. My parents said it was too dangerous, that there would be no way to survive if you fell.

I’m not a child any more.

I headed left, taking the sloping path up the mountainside. As I neared the top, I heard a raised voice.

‘Tomo-chan, Tomo-chan, come down.’

I ran to the top, and entered the clearing. Kenta stood by the riverbank; the voice was his.

I don’t want to deal with him today.

I turned and began to walk back down the path.

‘Please come down, Tomo-chan.’

I hesitated. ‘Fine.’

I started walking towards the riverbank. ‘Kenta, what’s wrong?’

‘Oh, Toshi. My cat, Tomo-chan, is stuck up there!’

Kenta pointed to a large tree overhanging the river. I looked up and saw a tiny black kitten perched on a branch.

‘If she falls, she’ll drown,’ he said. ‘Tomo-chan likes to climb, but she doesn’t know how to get down.’

‘You have to help me, Toshi.’

I gritted my teeth.

What am I supposed to do? I can’t climb out there, I’m too heavy.

Suddenly, I knew what to do.

Here goes nothing.

My eyes were fixated on the cat. I cupped my hands and slowly raised them. Tomo-chan meowed softly, but kept calm despite the fact she was hovering. I drew my hands in, ever so slowly, coaxing her back towards dry land. Sweat was dripping from my forehead. A slight pain in my head soon grew larger, but I kept my focus on the floating kitten.

‘Come on, Tomo-chan,’ I whispered.

As she hovered above Kenta’s head, my concentration failed.

‘Kenta, catch!’

Tomo-chan fell into Kenta’s outstretched arms, and he pulled her in tightly.

‘Toshi,’ he started, walking forward. ‘You’re a freak.’

He shoved me to the ground with his free hand. ‘Stay away from me, freak.’

I climbed back to my feet and glared. My fists were clenched.

I just saved your cat, you ungrateful…

I took a step towards Kenta’s turned back, rocks crunching underneath my feet.

He heard me and paused. ‘Got something to say, Toshi?’ he called over his shoulder.

I’ve got plenty to say to you.

‘Speak up Toshi, I can’t hear you.’

I want to make you hurt, Kenta. I want to humiliate you like you humiliate me.

‘Spar with me,’ I said.

‘What?’

‘Spar with me. In the exam, be my partner. I want the opportunity to crush you.’

Kenta just laughed. ‘You, crush me? I’m not going to waste my time with you. You’re useless.’

‘Then you’ll look even better in the exam, won’t you? Fight me, Kenta.’

‘Fine, whatever. On Friday, you will fail.’

He left and I fell to the ground.

How am I going to beat Kenta? What have I gotten myself into?

My thoughts raced as I made my way home. My desire to train was demolished. All I could do was laugh at my hopeless situation. The courage I had held moments ago was lost and seemed far beyond recall.

At home, I sunk to the floor in front of my family shrine. I prayed to my ancestors for guidance.

I heard Yuko walk up and sit down behind me. Her hand gently stroked my shoulder.

‘Yuko...’

She sat with me, surrounded by the relics of our ancestors. I imagined their voices, guiding me, offering advice, imbuing me with their strength and courage.

‘I’m going to go train now, Yuko.’

I stood silently. My katana was outstretched in a relaxed stance.

‘My technique is passable,’ I said, stepping through some cuts and parries, ‘but my reaction under pressure isn’t quick enough.’

I blocked high and then followed with a horizontal slice.

‘If I could somehow slow him down, give myself a moment longer to think...’
I practised autonomously, my mind wandering elsewhere. I replayed yesterday’s fight with Kenta in my head, anger bubbling. I remembered the rock striking me, the instant of pain.

I wish I could have dodged the rock, blocked it somehow.

I put down my practice blade and picked up a pebble and tossed it high into the air. It became a tiny spec against the blue sky, and then began to grow as the little pebble sped back to the ground. I pushed my will forwards, trying to suspend the small stone in midair. Its speed slowed until it stopped dead, hovering a metre above my head.

‘I can do this,’ I said, daring a grin. ‘I’ll just push against his blade the whole time, he’ll be thrown off guard, and I’ll be able to beat him.’

‘I’ll need to practice harder. I need to be strong enough to compete with his force.’

I let the pebble drop and I picked up a larger stone. ‘I’ve got five days to train, time to get focused!’




Like I had done every morning of my life since I began my training, I woke at daybreak. Yuko came with me, down to the field. All of the parents in the village were there, standing throughout the field, talking amongst themselves and watching us prepare. If we failed here, now, there would be no end to our shame.

Daichi sensei wasn’t one for delay. He immediately called Kenta forward, and asked who he would partner.

‘Toshi.’

‘Wish me luck,’ I said, smiling at Yuko. She smiled back and kissed my cheek. As she ran off to stand with the other onlookers, I steeled myself.

I strode closer to Kenta and stared at the ground. The stones around my feet began to hover at ankle height. I drew my practice blade, looking up to meet the fierce gaze of Kenta and his wry grin. I smiled back, slipping into a combat stance and motioning for him to attack.

As Kenta dashed towards me, I heard the voice of a young girl cry out, ‘Go Toshi, you can do it, brother!’

For my parents, for my ancestors, for Yuko… I will win.

I tightened my grip and charged forwards to meet Kenta head on.