ericlustbader.the ninja-第29部分

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　He　did　not　have　to　touch　her　to　know　that　she　was　dead　but　he　bent　to　it　anyway　because　part　of　his　mind　said　that　he　must　he　absolutely　certain。　He　cradled　her　head　in　his　lap　until　he　heard　the　sound　from　beyond　the　door。
　Almost　unseeing；　he　got　up；　crossed　to　the　opposite　wall。　His　cold　fingers　closed　upon　the　cool　lacquered　leather　of　the　slightly　curved　scabbard　that　hung　on　his　wall。　He　brought　it　to　him　with　great　deliberation；　the　whisper　of　the　naked　blade　as　he　unsheathed　it　was　the　loudest　sound　he　had　ever　heard。　Louder　even　than　the　splintering　of　the　wooden　door　as　it　buckled　inwards　under　the　enormous　force　of　the　karate　kick。
　The　ebon　figure　stood　in　the　doorway；　the　bokken　in　his　left　hand；　his　right　was　empty。　It　was　not　until　this　ultimate　moment　of　their　confrontation　that　Terry　allowed　the　thought　to　surface　as　a　reality。　He　trembled　involuntarily。
　'Ninja；'　he　whispered。　He　barely　recognized　his　own　voice；　so　clogged　was　it　with　emotion。　'You　have　chosen　death　in　ing　here。'
　He　leaped　upon　the　intervening　bed；　striking　forcefully　with　his　katana。　It　was；　he　realized　instantly；　a　stupid　move；　for　there　was　no　solid　support　and　therefore　not　nearly　enough　power　behind　the　momentum　of　his　strike。
　Deftly；　with　almost　no　effort；　the　ninja　avoided　his　strike　without　even　lifting　his　bokken；　no　need　to　cross　swords；　he　was　saying。　You　are　not　even　good　enough　for　that。
　The　ninja　whirled　away　into　the　darkness　of　the　living　room　and　Terry　had　no　choice　but　to　follow。　Dimly　he　knew　that　he　was　playing　into　the　other's　hand；　that　the　background　of　battle　was　just　as　important　as　the　battle　itself。　He　sprinted　over　Eileen's　corpse；　his　heart　constricting；　his　blood　turned　to　ice。　To　hell　with　it　1　he　thought　rashly。　I　can　defeat　him　on　any　ground。　Thus；　in　his　sorrow　and　his　rage；　he　turned　away　from　all　he　had　been　so　painstakingly　taught。
　In　the　living　room；　where　Mancini　played　on　obliviously；　he　saw　limned　the　outline　of　the　bokken　and　immediately　went　after　it。
　But　the　ninja　was　already　in　motion；　on　the　attack；　and　Terry　lifted　his　katana　into　the　darkness；　bracing　for　the　expected　force　of　the　blocked　blow　against　his　blade。　Thus　he　was　totally　unprepared　for　the　violently　percussive　shock　against　his　exposed　chest。　He　was　flung　back　more　than　five　feet　as　if　by　an　explosion。　He　staggered；　his　ribs　and　sternum　on　fire。　He　ached　all　the　way　up　to　his　jaw。　'What　…　？'　he　coughed；　confused。
　The　ninja　was　again　a　blur；　driving　in　again。　Terry　instinctively　raised　his　katana；　though　he　was　unsure　of　the　point　of　attack；　his　vision　seemed　blurred。
　A　second　blow　came　against　his　chest　and　he　flew　backwards；　going　down　on　one　knee。　The　katana　in　his　right　hand　seemed　to　weigh　as　much　as　a　human　body。　His　lungs　laboured　and　he　was　disoriented。
　The　third　blow　hit　him　just　as　he　had　staggered　to　his　feet。　This　time　he　perceived　what　was　occurring　even　as　he　was　slammed　back　into　the　wall。　He　heard　rather　than　felt　a　crack　as　if　a　roof　beam　had　given　out　and　he　felt　a　curious　wetness　on　his　left　side。　Ribs；　he　thought　dully；　his　seething　mind　still　filled　with　what　was　happening　to　him。　It　was　like　a　dream；　no　possible　reality　could　be　so　fantastic。
　Another　blow　bounced　him　off　the　wall　and　the　katana　pin…wheeled　from　his　grasp；　a　dead　star　whirling　through　space。　He　glanced　down　at　himself；　saw　the　fractured　ribs　protruding　through　his　rent　flesh。　The　blood　was　black　as　ink；　running　out　of　him　like　tap　water　down　a　drain。
　It　was　straight　out　of　the　Go　Rin　No　Sho。　It　was　the　classic　Body　Strike　of　which　Musashi　wrote。　Strike　with　the　left　shoulder；　he　wrote；　with　the　spirit　resolved；　until　the　enemy　is　dead。　Learn　this　well。　The　ninja　had；　Terry　reflected　almost　disinterestedly。　He　cared　little　for　his　own　life　now；　not　with
　Eileen　lying　dead　in　the　next　room。　But　to　kill　this　monster；　yes；　this　still　had　substance　for　him。
　He　began　to　move　forward；　up　the　wall；　then　off　it。　But　his　body　refused　to　respond　quickly。　He　reeled；　his　eyes　on　the　moving　ninja；　crossing　his　arms　in　front　of　him　to　ward　off　the　blow。
　It　had　no　effect。　He　crashed　backwards　with　a　grunt　of　pain；　his　sternum　splintered　from　the　enormous　force　of　the　repeated　blows。　The　bone　shot　through　his　body　as　effectively　as　shrapnel。　He　looked　up　once　from　where　he　was　huddled　against　the　moulding；　into　the　eyes　like　stones；　thinking；　Musashi　was　right　after　all。　The　softly　swaying　Mancini　music　rang　in　his　ears；　recalling　Eileen　to　him。　Her　warmth　suffused　him　like　a　lighted　fuse；　burning　its　way　through　him　until　it　reached　his　brain。
　Blood　came　out　of　his　mouth　as　he　called　to　her　in　a　voice　as　fragile　as　rice　paper。　'Eileen；'　he　called。　'I　love　you。'　His　head　lolled　and　his　eyes　slid　shut。
　The　ninja　stood　dominant　in　that　black　void；　seeming　scarcely　to　breathe。　He　stared　at　the　body　before　him　without　emotion。　For　long　moments　his　senses　quested　for　any　sound　out　of　the　ordinary。　At　length；　satisfied；　he　turned　away；　moving　silently　across　the　room。　From　beneath　the　sofa　he　drew　out　his　duffel　bag　and；　drawing　open　the　zipper；　carefully　placed　his　bokken　next　to　its　brother　on　the　top　of　the　contents。　In　one　motion　he　had　closed　the　bag　and　hefted　it；　quitting　the　apartment　without　a　backward　glance。
　Behind　him；　Mancini　played　on；　the　slow　bittersweet　melody　hinting　at　lost　love；　cascading　through　the　room。　A　deep　groan　escaped　from　Terry's　cracked　lips　as　he　coughed　more　blood。　He　lifted　his　head　and；　blindly；　began　to　crawl　towards　the　bedroom；　not　even　understanding　why；　knowing　only　that　he　must。
　Inch　by　agonizing　inch　he　moved；　crossing　the　threshold　at　last；　stopping　only　when　he　lay　panting；　drooling　blood；　beside　Eileen's　corpse。
　Before　his　face　was　a　cord　and；　reaching　up；　he　yanked　on　it。　The　phone　crashed　down　onto　his　left　shoulder　but　he　was　beyond　feeling　this　minute　drop　within　the　vast　pool　of　pain　that　enpassed　him。　His　finger　trembling；　he　dialled　seven　slow　digits。　The　ringing　of　the　receiver　was　like　the　tolling　of　a　far…off　temple　bell。
　But　Eileen　seemed　suddenly　so　far　away　from　him　and　he　knew　she　needed　him。　The　receiver　slipped　through　his　wet　fingers。　He　crawled　across　the　last　miles。
　'Hello？'　It　was　Vincent's　voice　that　came　dimly　through　the　abandoned　instrument。　'Hello？　Hello！'
　But　there　was　no　one　now　to　hear　him。　Terry　lay　face　down　on　the　black　fan　of　Eileen's　hair；　his　eyes　open；　unseeing　and　already　glazing　over；　the　blood　like　a　second　tongue　moving　from　his　lips　to　hers。
　In　the　living　room；　the　music　was　finished。
　
　
　II
　Tokyo　Suburbs；　Spring　1959…Spring　1960
　'Look　here；　Nicholas；'　the　Colonel　said　one　dark　and　dismal　afternoon。　Storm　clouds　hid　the　crown　of　Mount　Fuji　and；　occasionally；　forked　lightning　lit　the　sky；　afterwards；　the　distant　roll　of　thunder。
　The　Colonel；　in　his　study；　had　in　his　hands　a　lacquered　box。　On　its　top　was　painted　a　dragon　and　a　tiger；　entwined。　Nicholas　recognized　it　as　the　parting　gift　to　his　mother　and　father　from　So…Peng。
　'It　is　time；　I　think；　for　you　to　see　this；'　the　Colonel　said。　He　picked　up　his　pipe　and　a　zippered　pouch　of　moist　tobacco；　digging　both　pipe　and　forefinger　into　its　depths；　filling　it。　Striking　a　kitchen　match　on　the　edge　of　his　desk；　he　drew　strongly　on　the　pipe；　getting　it　going　to　his　satisfaction　before　continuing。　His　long　forefinger　tapped　the　top　of　the　box；　the　tip　tracing　the　lines　of　the　two　creatures　emblazoned　there。
　'Nicholas；　do　you　know　the　symbolic　meanings　of　the　dragon　and　the　tiger　in　Japanese　mythology？'
　Nicholas　shook　his　head。
　The　Colonel　blew　out　a　cloud　of　blue　aromatic　smoke；　gripped　the　pipe…stem　with　his　teeth　at　one　corner　of　his　mouth。　'The　tiger　is　lord　of　all　the　land　and　the　dragon；　well；　he　is　emperor　of　the　air。　Curious；　that；　I've　always　thought。　The　flying　serpent；　Kukulkan；　of　Mayan　mythology；　though　he　was　depicted　as　being　feathered；　was　also　lord　of　the　air。　Interesting　that　two　cultures　so　far　from　each　other　should　share　a　major　slice　of　mythology；　don't　you　think？'
　'But　why　did　So…Peng　give　you　a　Japanese　box？'　Nicholas　asked。　'He　was　Chinese；　wasn't　he？'
　'Uhm；　a　good　question；'　the　Colonel　said；　puffing　away。　'One　to　which；　I　am　afraid；　I　do　not　have　a　satisfactory　answer。　It　is　true　that　So…Peng　was　Mandarin；　but　only　half　so。　He　made　it　clear　to　me　that　his　mother　was　Japanese。'
　'Still；　that　doesn't　explain　the　box；〃　Nicholas　pointed　out。　'It's　true　enough　that　you　were　going　to　Japan；　but　this　box　is　ancient；　not　easily　acquirable；　especially　at　that　time。'
　'Yes；'　the　Colonel　replied；　stroking　the　lid；　'there　is　little　doubt　that　this　had　been　in　his　family　…　quite　probably　brought　by　his　mother　to　China　…　for　some　time。　Now　why　should　So…Peng　give　this　to　us？　I　mean　this　specific　item。　Surely　it　was　no　whim；　he　was　not　that　kind　of　man。　Nor　do　I　think　it　was　mere　coincidence。'　The　Colonel　rose　now　and　stood　by　the　rain…streaked　window。　Condensation　had　made　the　panes　into　frosted　decorations；　winter's　chill　had　not　totally　been　left　behind。
　'I　pondered　this　for　a　long　time；'　the　Colonel　said；　staring　out　of　the　windows。　He　rubbed　a　small　oval；　clearing　a　line　of　sight　as　if　he　were　carefully　looking　out　of　a　besieged　for