ericlustbader.the ninja-第114部分

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so；　an　elemental　sexuality。　That　Yukio　had　been　able　to　draw　this　out　of　him　he　had　both　loved　and　feared　at　the　same　time。
　It　saddened　him　greatly　that　he　should　have　been　living　a　lie　for　all　these　years；　believing　that　she　had　deceived　him。　But　to　know　now　that　she　had　loved　him　as　he　had　loved　her　was　enough。　She　was　gone　from　him；　had　been　for　a　long　time；　except　in　his　dreams。　That　memory　was　his　and　he　would　do　for　her　what　he　did　for　his　parents；　light　incense　and　say　the　prayers　for　them　on　the　days　of　their　births。
　Justine　stirred　beside　him　and　he　turned　over　on　his　back。　Her　right　arm　was　beneath　her　head；　the　hand　buried　to　the　wrist　beneath　the　crumpled　pillow。　He　heard　her　soft；　even　breathing。。。
　In　the　high　house　filled　with　bars　of　bright　golden　sunlight　and　deep　shade　falling　obliquely　across　the　bare　wooden　floors　Nicholas　encountered　So…Peng。　He　seemed　not　to　have　aged　at　all　since　the　time　the　Colonel　and　Cheong　had　e　to　visit　him。　Tall　and　thin　with　bright　black　eyes　and'　long　hands；　longer　fingernails　which　clashed　softly　like　the　mandibles　of　some　mythic　creature；　he　stood　in　the　centre　of　the　vaulted　room；　studying　Nicholas。
　'You　have　brought　me　a　fine　present。　I　am　most　grateful。'　？　Nicholas　looked　around；　saw　nothing。　Only　he　and　So…Peng。　He　did　not　understand。
　'Where　am　I？'
　'Somewhere；'　said　the　old　man；　'east　of　the　moon；　east　of　the　sun。'
　'I　don't　remember　how　I　got　here。'　Nicholas　felt　panic　overtake　him。　'I'll　never　find　it　again。'
　So…Peng　smiled　and　his　nails　clashed　together；　the　brittle　sound　of　cicadas　at　noon。　'You　came　here　once。　You　will　find　your　way　again。'
　And　then　Nicholas　was　alone　in　the　high　house；　staring　at　himself　in　a　long　panel　mirror。
　Dawn　light；　gentle　and　pale；　woke　him　as　it　came　in　through　the　bedroom　window。　Justine　was　still　asleep。　He　lifted　the　covers　lightly；　got　out　of　bed。
　He　washed　and　dressed　silently；　went　down　the　hallway　into　the　kitchen　to　make　himself　a　cup　of　green　tea。　He　whirled　the　crushed　leaves　around　and　around　the　cup　until　they　had　dissolved。　There　was　a　fine　froth　on　top；　as　pale　a　green　as　the　mist　in　the　mountains　of　Japan　in　autumn。
　He　sipped　once；　very　slowly；　savouring　the　bitter　taste　that　was　like　no　other　in　the　world。　Then　he　went　into　the　living　room。　He　turned　on　the　light　in　the　fish　tank；　fed　the　inhabitants。
　It　was　a　remarkably　clear　day。　Clouds；　very　high　up；　stood　sharply　delineated；　their　striations　as　well　defined　as　those　in　marble。　They　swayed　in　the　high　wind　aloft。　He　opened　the　door；　leaving　only　the　screen　door　closed　against　the　beach　insects。　The　breeze　swept　in　off　the　sea；　rich　and　moist。
　Justine　was　dreaming　of　a　man　whose　face　seemed　to　be　all　mouth。　It　was　a　lipless　scar；　like　the　horizon　on　the　brink　of　a　savage　storm；　black　and　ominous；　opening　and　closing　as　lurid　lightning　forked　and　flickered　far　out。
　It　was　screaming　at　her；　over　and　over；　the　voice　just　a　whisper；　each　whisper　a　lash　dial　stung　her　heart；　raising　a　welt；　leaving　a　scar　in　its　insidious　wake。
　She　tried　to　get　her　mind　in　gear；　to　think　coherently；　but　the　screaming　mouth　confused　her　and　she　lay　idling　like　a　car　in　neutral。
　The　words　the　mouth　was　screaming　at　her　poured　down　on　her　like　hard　rain；　making　her　mind　hurt　until　the　only　thing　she　wanted　to　do　was　to　put　her　hands　over　her　ears　to　blot　out　the　terrible　noise。　But　it　went　on　and　on　and　on。
　The　only　way　to　make　the　mouth　stop　was　to　do　what　it　said。
　Now　she　wanted　to　wake　up。　Or　she　did　not。　She　could　not　tell　which。　She　began　to　whimper　and　cry。　In　her　dream？　Or　for　real？　Which　did　she　want　to　do？　Wake　up？　Or　continue　to　sleep？　She　was　terrified　and　every　moment　she　remained　asleep　her　fear　intensified。
　She　began　to　struggle。　She　felt　steel　crossing　the　palms　of　her　hands。
　Then　her　eyes　snapped　open。
　Nicholas　was　on　his　knees；　sitting　straight…backed；　facing　the　windows；　the　water　and　the　dawn；　when　Justine　came　into　the　room。　His　eyes　were　closed；　the　handle…less　cup　of　green　tea　steaming　in　front　of　him。　His　spirit　expanded；　gyring　high　into　the　clear　sky；　reaching　towards　the　high　clouds。
　Justine；　eyes　opened　wide　and　burning　quiet　cold　fire；　stole　silently　past　the　bubbling　fish　tank。　Her　pale　yellow　nightgown　swirled　about　her　as　if　she　were　immersed　in　mist；　rising　up　from　the　floor　she　walked；　enwrapping　her　torso。
　She　turned　and；　reaching　upwards　with　her　two　hands；　unsheathed　the　katana　which　hung　on　the　wall　just　below　Nicholas's　dai…katana。　She　would　have　taken　that　but　it　was　just　out　of　her　reach。
　Now　she　turns；　transfigured。　Her　eyes　are　not　her　own。　The　colour　is　all　wrong　and　the　crimson　motes　have　been　obscured　by　the　new　blackness　of　the　irises。　Her　face；　she　feels　with　a　mixture　of　terror　and　exhilaration；　is　no　longer　feminine；　though　her　figure　is　not　altered。　Like　dark　lightning　flickering：　adder；　ant；　man…thing。　She　shakes　her　head　as　her　vision　blurs。　Colours　seem　strange；　shapes　bulk　at　her　in　different　proportions。　All　of　it　has　lost　the　extra　dimensions　with　which　she　once　saw　the　world。　It　is　a　cold　and　hateful　place；　joyless　and　as　sere　as　the　'　great　Gobi。
　Air　bellows　in　and　out　of　her　lungs　as　if　through　some　baleful　force　outside　her　ken　and　she　curls　up　inside　herself；　crying　and　shivering。
　Still　her　hands　are　calm　and　controlled　as　she　places　them　one　over　the　other　around　the　wound　leather　handle　of　the　katana；　feeling　its　weight　and　its　balance；　knowing　…　and　not　knowing　how　she　knows　…　the　perfection　of　it。
　Now　her　bare　feet　are　placed　slowly　one　before　the　other；　at　precise　angles；　as　she　draws　ever　closer　to　the　muscular　back　at　the　front　of　the　room。
　Cool　light　floods　her　as　she　es　out　from　the　shadows　and　she　pauses　a　moment　to　allow　her　eyes　to　adjust　to　the　glare。
　Now　she　is　so　close　that　it　seems　her　harsh　breath　must　brush　his　skin。　Her　arms　are　raised　high　over　her　head　in　preparation　for　the　one　lethal　blow。　One　instant　and　it　is　all　over：　the　striking　of　a　match　in　the　dark；　the　flick　of　one　fingernail　against　another。　The　difference　between　life　and　death。
　The　tip　of　the　katana　begins　to　quiver　as　the　killing　energy　is　built　up。　One　cannot　use　the　iai　in　this　situation　…　the　great　scream　that　releases　so　much　energy。　How　does　she　know　this？　she　wonders。　One　must　draw　the　power　upwards　from　the　lower　abdomen　…　more；　more；　the　muscles　are　so　weak。
　And　it　is　at　this　moment；　as　the　katana　mences　its　dark　downward　rush；　that　her　core；　at　last　seeing；　begins　to　uncurl。
　No！　she　screamed　to　herself。　No　no　no！
　But　the　blade　was　already　a　blur；　cleaving　the　air　as　it　went　down　and　down　and；　despairing；　she　knew　that　it　was　far　too　late。
　In　flight；　his　spirit　seemed　to　take　on　the　characteristics　of　an　old　man。　Not　any　old　man　but　a　particular　one。
　Nicholas；　unbound；　was　old　yet　seemed　not　to　feel　the　years。　Rather；　they　hung　over　one　bare；　insubstantial　arm　like　a　series　of　silk　scarves；　each　one　a　different　colour；　corresponding　to　its　memories。
　In　the　sky　of　the　new　day　he　danced　the　dance　of　life；　a　delighted　child　who　has　nevertheless　seen　many　things；　experienced　many　days　and　nights。　He　fashioned　stalks　of　wheat　from　the　stuff　of　the　clouds　and；　grasping　one　in　each　fist；　swirled　them　around　and　around　his　head　like　crepe　paper　streamers。
　Below　him　the　continent　of　Ask　stretched　itself　like　an　enormous　tiger；　yawning　in　the　early　morning；　just　beginning　to　stir。　Yet　it　was　the　Asia　of　another　time；　before　the　advent　of　heavy　industrialization；　the　revolution　in　China；　the　devastation　of　Vietnam　and　Cambodia。　The　air　was　like　incense。
　Nicholas　became　aware　of　Justine　and　the　katana　at　the　same　instant。　Had　he　not　been　so　far　away；　the　haragei　would　have　picked　up　the　intent　far　sooner。　But　he　was　relaxed　and；　for　that　moment　went　unaware。
　But　in　this　last　instant　he　had　heard　the　bolt　of　black　thunder　and　was　already　turning　as　the　katana　rushed　down　upon　him。
　There　was；　of　course；　no　time　for　cerebration。　Had　he　paused　to　think；　even　for　the　barest　of　instants；　he　would　have　died。　As　it　was；　it　was　closer　than　he　liked　to　think　about。
　There　are　various　methods　of　winning　a　battle　without　a　sword。　The　one　he　knew　best　was　Letting　Go　the　Hilt　and　he　used　it　now；　instinctively　reaching　up　with　his　arms　crossed　just　past　the　wrists　so　that　he　came　hi　within　the　arc　of　the　blade；　slamming　Justine's　forearms　away　and　up。
　He　was　on　his　feet　and　she　came　at　him　with　a　horizontal　cut　from　left　to　right　and　he　knew　then　what　had　happened。
　With　a　shattering　cry；　he　extended　his　left　leg；　bending　at　the　knee；　and　crossed　hi　right　arm　over　his　left；　applying　a　blow　to　her　fists　with　the　flat　of　his　hand。
　He　stamped；　startling　her；　and　broke　towards　the　katana。　Half　way　there；　he　realized　that　the　blow　he　was　about　to　deliver　would　shatter　the　bones　in　her　wrists　and　instead　grasped　them；　wrenching　backwards；　right　over　left；　until　she　cried　out　and　the　blade　clattered　to　the　floor。
　Her　knee　came　up　and　struck　him　in　the　pit　of　his　stomach。　He　bent　over　and　she　pounded　his　back　with　both　her　fists。
　The　breath　whooshed　out　of　him　but；　in　falling；　he　managed　to　use　his　forearms　to　sweep　her　off　her　feet。　She　fell　heavily　half