ericlustbader.the ninja-第14部分

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here　was　absolutely　no　pain。　Only　the　feeling　that　he　had　been　driven　straight　through　the　tarmac　of　the　road。
　Tears　came　to　Billy's　eyes　for　the　first　time　in　years。　Momma；　he　thought；　Momma；　I'm　in'　home。
　'I　think　I　know　what　it　is；'　she　said。
　Night　had　e　and　a　strong　wind；　springing　up　from　the　landward　side　of　the　house；　rattled　the　trees　outside。　Far　off　a　boat　hooted　once　and　was　still。　They　lay　close　together　on　the　bed；　enjoying　the　nearness　of　their　flesh；　nothing　sexual　in　it；　just　two　beings；　together。
　'You　won't　laugh；'　she　said；　turning　her　face　towards　his。　'Promise　me　you　won't　laugh。'
　'I　promise。'
　'If　I'm　hurt　…　physically　…　it　prepared　me；　sort　of。'
　'For　what？'
　'For　the　other　kind　of　hurt。　The　breaking　up；　the　leaving。'
　'That　seems　to　me　an　awfully　pessimistic　view　of　life。'
　'Yes；　it　does。'
　'He　put　his　arm　around　her　and　she　put　one　foot　between　his；　rubbing　his　shins。
　After　a　time；　he　said；　'What　is　it　you　want？'
　'To　be　happy；'　she　said。　'That's　all。'　There　is　nothing　else　in　the　world；　she　thought；　but　our　linked　bodies；　our　twined　souls；　and　she　thought　that　she　had　never　been　as　close　to　anyone　as　she　felt　at　that　moment　to　Nicholas。　Trust　had　to　begin　somewhere。　Perhaps　this　was　the　place　for　her　to　start。
　She　jumped　at　the　sound　of　an　enormous　crash　that　seemed　to　e　from　near　the　front　of　the　house；　the　kitchen。　She　cried　out　as　if　a　cold　hand　had　clutched　at　her　vitals；　saw　Nicholas　sit　up；　swing　his　legs　over　the　side　of　the　bed。
　He　stood　up；　and　as　he　began　to　move　towards　the　bedroom　door　he　seemed　totally　transformed　to　her。　Standing　there　stark　naked；　he　nevertheless　seemed　fully　clothed；　as　if　his　rippling　muscles　and　gleaming　sweat…streaked　skin　were　some　mysterious　raiment　cloaking　him。
　He　moved　silently　towards　the　lemon　light　streaming　down　the　hallway。　He　led　with　his　left　foot；　his　body　sideways　as　if　he　were　a　fencer；　knees　slightly　bent；　feet　not　leaving　the　floor。　Down　the　hallway。　He　had　said　not　a　word　to　her。
　Gathering　her　wits；　she　went　after　him。
　His　hands　were　up　before　him；　she　saw；　their　　　　　edges　reminded　her　oddly　of　blades；　the　fingers　as　stiff　as　steel　as　he　moved　steadily　into　the　kitchen。
　Past　the　table；　she　saw　that　the　window　over　the　sink　had　been　shattered　inwards　and　shards　of　glass　gleamed　in　the　light。　She　dared　not　move　farther　on　bare　feet。　The　curtains　flapped　in　the　wind　rushing　in　through　the　rent；　whipping　against　the　enameled　walls。
　She　watched　Nicholas　move　forwards；　stop　as　still　as　a　statue　as　he　peered　down　at　something　on　the　floor　on　the　far　side　of　the　table　near　the　window。　He　stayed　in　that　position　for　such　a　long　time　that　she　went　cautiously　across　the　littered　floor　to　stand　behind　him。　She　gasped　and　turned　away。　But　something　drew　her　eyes　inexorably　back　and　she　looked　again。
　On　the　floor　was　a　black　furry　mass；　large　and　unmoving。　Blood　seeped　along　the　floor　in　several　places　from　under　the　body；　glistening　where　it　shone　upon　the　ruined　glass。　A　strange；　astringent　smell　assaulted　her　nostrils　and　she　gagged。　Her　eyes　began　to　blur。
　'What　…'　She　gagged　again；　swallowed　hard。　'What　is　that　thing？'
　'I'm　not　sure；'　he　said　slowly。　'It's　too　big　for　a　bat；　at　least　in　this　part　of　the　country；　and　it's　not　a　flying　squirrel。'
　The　phone　began　to　ring　and　Justine　jumped。　Her　hands　gripped　her　arms。　'I've　got　goose…flesh；'　she　said。　Nicholas　remained　where　he　was；　staring　down　at　the　black　thing　that　had　crashed　through　the　window。　'Blinded　by　the　light；'　he　said。
　Justine　went　to　the　far　wall　and　picked　up　the　phone　but　he　seemed　oblivious　as　she　spoke　for　several　moments。　She　had　to　e　back　and　touch　him　on　the　arm。　'Vincent　wants　to　speak　to　you；'　she　said。
　He　looked　at　her　then；　tearing　his　eyes　away。　'All　right。'　His　voice　seemed　thick；　his　droughts　far　away。　'Don't　go　near　it；'
　he　warned　as　he　went　to　the　phone。　'What　is　it？'　he　said　abruptly。
　'I　tried　you　at　your　place；'　Vincent　said。　'When　there　was　no　answer；　I　took　a　chance。'　Nicholas　said　nothing。　'Look；　I　know　what　time　it　is。'　His　voice　rattled　against　Nicholas's　ear；　an　odd　note　settled　in　it。　'It's　happened　again。　Florum　just　brought　in　another　body。　They're　photographing　it　now。'　The　wind　howling　in　through　the　broken　window　seemed　chill　to　Nicholas。　He　waited；　sweat　breaking　out　on　his　body。　He　looked　at　the　mess　on　the　floor：　the　black…furred　corpse；　the　red　blood；　seeping　still　as　if　seeking　something　or　someone。　'Nick；　the　body　has　been　cut　obliquely　from　shoulder…blade　to　hip　joint　as　neatly　as　…　It　was　one　cut。　Do　you　understand？'
　
　
　
　Tokyo　Suburbs
　Singapore；　Summer　1945
　Tokyo　Suburbs；　Winter　1951
　
　There　was　a　Shinto　temple　amid　the　lushest　forest　Nicholas　had　ever　seen；　a　mere　three　hundred　metres　from　the　extreme　eastern　edge　of　his　father's　land。　Then　it　was　another　hundred　and　fifty　or　so　to　the　house；　a　large；　delicate；　precisely　orchestrated　structure　of　traditional　Japanese　design。　The　front　was　L…shaped；　preceded；　as　one　came　upon　it；　by　an　exquisite　formal　garden　which；　needless　to　say；　required　tireless　attention　and　as　much　love　as　a　small　child。
　The　irony　of　the　location　would　e　later　when；　on　the　far　side　of　the　long　rolling　knoll　to　the　west；　they　would　construct　an　ultramodern　eight…lane　superhighway　to　aid　the　bustling　traffic　to　and　from　the　heart　of　Tokyo。
　The　last　traces　of　Japan's　military　might　had　been　ground　to　metal　powder；　its　imperial　daimyo　tried　and　serving　time　as　war　criminals。　The　Emperor　remained　but　everywhere　uniformed　Americans　basked　in　what　they　often　laughingly　referred　to　as　'the　atomic　sunshine*。
　Yet　Nicholas's　history　lessons　were　to　begin　in　another　country。

　On　February　15；　1942；　his　father　told　him　when　he　was　ten；　the　British　garrison　had　surrendered　Singapore　to　the　attacking　Japanese。　They　held　the　city　for　three　and　a　half　years　until　September　1945；　when　the　British　reoccupied　it。　There　his　father　had　met　his　mother；　a　kind　of　refugee　in　the　war…torn　city。　She　had　been　married　to　a　Japanese　garrison　mander　and　seeing　him　blown　to　bits　during　the　last　days　of　that　humid　trembling　summer　perhaps　unhinged　her　for　a　time。
　The　first　of　the　British　forces　were　already　infiltrating　the　outskirts　of　the　city　and　the　mander　had　moved　his　garrison　east　to　outflank　them　but；　overextending　his　position；　had　found　himself　outflanked。　Caught　in　a　murderous　crossfire；　he　had　cut　down　six　English　soldiers　with　his　katana　before　the　rest　had　sense　enough　to　step　back　and　loft　the　volley　of　grenades。　There　was　nothing　left　of　him；　not　even　bones。
　Years　later；　in　an　old　battered　shop　selling　ukiyo…e　prints　in　a　tiny　Tokyo　side　street；　Nicholas　had　e　across　a　certain　print　entitled　The　End　of　the　Samurai。　It　depicted　a　dismayed　warrior's　death；　his　great　katana　flung　from　his　hands　by　a　blast　of　gunpowder。　In　that　print　Nicholas　saw；　perhaps；　the　redemption　of　his　mother's　first　husband；　recognizing　the　historical　imperative　of　that　enemy。
　His　mother　had　always　been　a　totally　apolitical　woman。　She　had　married　out　of　love；　hardly　out　of　convenience。　But　with　the　eventual　defeat　of　the　Japanese　in　Singapore；　with　the　death　of　her　husband；　she　found　that　her　entire　world　had　exploded　into　a　wilderness　that　frightened　her。　This　she　found　utterly　consternating。　Life；　she　firmly　believed；　was　for　the　living。　One　mourned　one's　losses　and　moved　onwards。　Karma。　She　believed　in　that　above　all　else。　Not　a　predestiny　…　she　was　no　fatalist　as　many　Westerners　might　mistakenly　dub　her。　She　knew　rather；　merely　how　to　bow　before　the　inevitabilities　of　life。　As　the　death　of　her　husband。
　But　this　was　a　time　of　momentous　changes　and；　like　a　beautiful　flower　caught　up　in　an　inexplicable　maelstrom；　she　felt　adrift　in　the　riot　of　chattering　gunfire　and　mortar　explosions。
　She　met　Nicholas's　father；　ironically　enough；　in　the　very　office　where　her　dead　husband　had　carried　on　the　mand　of　his　defeated　garrison。　She　had　wandered　in　there　as　if　it　were　some　Buddhist　temple；　sacrosanct　from　the　flames　of　war　that　rose　all　about　her。　Perhaps　she　had　e　there　because　it　was　one　of　the　only　places　left　in　Singapore　now　that　was　at　all　familiar　to　her。　Oddly　enough；　the　thought　of　fleeing　the　city　never　entered　her　mind。　Rather；　she　wandered　the　lethal　city　with　little　regard　to　her　personal　safety。
　So　much　of　the　city　had　changed　that　she　was　confused；　no　longer　certain　where　the　business　district　was　or　where　her　old　apartment　had　once　stood。　Piles　of　rubble　were　everywhere　and　the　streets　were　flooded　with　a　tide　of　children；　surging　and　calling；　as　if　in　the　aftermath　of　war's　bleak　nightmare　they　had　been　released　from　some　hideous　bondage。　It　recalled　to　her　the　happiness　she　had　felt　at　New　Year's　festivals　when　she　had　been　a　girl　…　liberated　for　a　time　from　the　cares　and　restrictions　of　the　world。　And　this；　too；　confounded　her。
　Thus　for　many　days　she　had　walked　the　steaming　streets；　whirling　into　dark　doorways　instinctively　as　she　heard　the　heavy　tramping　of　the　approaching　soldiers　…　she　was　beyond　differentiating　one　side　from　another。　Miraculously；　she　avoided　serious　misadventure。
　Karma；　she　would　say　later。　She　survived　at　the　sufferance　and　t