Warrior Spirit

“Where did you go to school? That is why you were there, right?”

Ken nodded. “Georgetown for undergrad. Harvard for my master’s.”

“In what?”

“Partying, most likely. I was something of a nut in school.” He smiled but then corrected himself. “My degree is in languages. Sanskrit, Tibetan and Nepali.”

Annja leaned back. “Impressive.”

“I had an ulterior motive for it. One we’ll discuss shortly.”

Their food arrived faster than Annja would have thought. After carefully checking her cheeseburger for any sign of corn, she took a huge bite. Tasting the juices and melted cheese run into her mouth, she moaned. “This is incredible.”

“It’s better with the corn,” Ken said around a mouthful of wings.

“You’ve got sauce on your face, champ.” Annja washed down her bite with a long sip from her water.

Ken wiped his mouth. “So that’s what was stinging.” He took a healthy pull on his beer and then tore into the rest of his plate as if he hadn’t eaten in a long while.

Annja devoured her burger and found the fries just as tasty. She and Ken ate in relative silence for the next few minutes until at last, Annja leaned back, wiped her mouth and sighed. “That was a great meal.”

Ken finished his beer and gestured to the waitress. He glanced at Annja. “How about a beer?”

“Sure.” Annja normally didn’t drink alcohol after a fight, but she was full and relaxed and eating with a handsome man. One drink wouldn’t be a bad idea.

Ken held up two fingers and then turned back to Annja, with a serious expression. “My family line is very old. Over one thousand years in fact. I’m descended from a long line of warriors. One of my ancestors was presented with a relic far back in Japan’s history.”

Annja glanced around the restaurant. “How far are we talking here?”

“A.D. 560.”

Annja blinked. “You weren’t kidding about a long family line. I never knew the name Ogawa stretched back that far.”

“Ogawa is nothing so special. It’s more the lineage itself that is important. But martial-arts lineages aren’t normally named after people. They’re instead named after an idea, concept or even a geographical location.” He smiled. “Forgive me, I’m sure you know all of this already.”

“Actually, my knowledge of Japanese martial arts is fairly rudimentary.”

Ken nodded. “My family’s lineage is known as the Yumegakure-ryu. It means ‘hidden dream.’ We were employed by the Regent Prince Shotoku Taishi during his reign and by almost every ruler since then.”

Annja frowned. “That’s a lot longer than most historians would argue records have been kept.”

“Most historians are a bunch of academics who have little common sense about the very things they claim expertise in. They sit in dusty offices, using only books to make their sometimes ridiculous claims,” Ken said.

Annja grinned. She knew more than a few people who fit that description exactly. “I’m something of a historian myself, though. You think I fit the same mold as they do?”

The waitress brought their beer and Ken hoisted his in Annja’s direction. “I don’t know too many academics who would have the courage to fight for three hours in the budokan. Kempai .”

“Kempai,” Annja said.

They drank together and then Ken rested his glass on the tabletop and leaned forward. “Besides, you’re an archaeologist. And you do your best work in the field. That’s your real value to me. I need you to help me find something that was stolen from my family a long time ago.”

“What is it?” Annja asked, feeling the excitement that always accompanied a new challenge.

Ken leaned back. “My ancestors, for their service to Prince Shotoku, were awarded a very special relic known as a vajra. It means ‘thunderbolt’. Prince Shotoku had the small sceptre made specially for my ancestors, and legend has it that it was also endowed with certain, shall we say, mystical qualities.”

“What kind of mystical qualities?” Annja grinned as she thought about how just a few years ago she would have scoffed at the idea of mystical properties in relics. How times had changed.

Ken shrugged. “Probably nothing. After all, have you ever seen anything that defied rational thought in all your travels?”

Annja felt a twinge in her stomach. How would Ken react if she said, “Well, sure, I’ve got this magical sword that I can pull out of thin air if I get into trouble.”

Instead she only smiled. “Go on.”

“I suppose it might have been more a matter of what it represented—that it was given by a powerful ruler to my family so that we would continue to be a force for good and balanced thought against those who might use their power to prevail in an opposite direction. But its loss led to the eventual downfall of my family. Gradually, over many years, the Yumegakure-ryu began to die out. I am, in fact, the last descendant.”

“Only you? There’s no one else?” Annja asked.

“None. And now I have this incredible feat in front of me. I must find that which was stolen from my family and try to restore the Yumegakure-ryu to its former glory. It’s a daunting task, which is why I came to you seeking help. I believe you can help me locate the vajra .”

“But it could be anywhere,” Annja said.

Ken shook his head. “I think it’s still here in Japan. When it was stolen, Japan was still a very closed society. I doubt the thieves would have tried to escape the country with it.”

“But since that time, Japan has certainly opened up.” Annja shook her head. “It could be anywhere by now.”

Ken shrugged again and took another sip of his beer. “Call it a hunch, but I think it’s here.”

Annja sighed. “All right. I’ll help you.”

Ken hoisted his beer again. “Excellent!”

Annja took a sip of her beer and then put her glass down. “Tell me something. I don’t recall ever hearing the name of the Yumegakure-ryu in any of the various lineages that I do know about. If you were so well-known, shouldn’t there be more written about your lineage?”

Ken shook his head. “We were well-known. Respected even. But history is written only by those who hold power when it is written. And the nature of my lineage was such that historians felt we did not belong in the annals of history. That we were, by nature, not honorable enough to be included.”

“But other samurai lineages—even those that were less good than others—were included,” Annja pointed out.

Ken smiled. “We weren’t samurai, Annja.”

“You weren’t?” Annja frowned. “Then what—?”

“We were ninja.”

3

Annja leaned back in the booth, feeling the cushions on her back. “Ninja? You’re kidding, right?”

Ken’s eyes never blinked. “Not at all.”