ericlustbader.the ninja-第25节

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　'Justine；　it's　Nick。〃　There　was　some　movement　now　from　the　back　of　the　house。
　He　was　beginning　to　feel　as　if；　having　once　been　surrounded　by　confetti　floating　through　the　air；　he　was　being　confronted　by　a　slowly　emerging　pattern　as　the　scraps　fell　to　the　ground。
　And　what　he　saw　shook　him　to　his　core。
　Justine　became　visible；　limned　in　the　light　from　behind　her；　sweeping　through　the　half…open　bedroom　door。
　'What　are　you　doing　here？'
　'Justine？'　He　knew　it　was　she；　just　did　not　believe　her　tone　of　voice。
　'Why　did　you　e？'
　'I　told　you　to　stay　at　my　house；　away　from　here。'　He　tried　not　to　think　of　the　black　furry　thing　full　of　blood　on　her　kitchen　floor。　Tried　to　calm　himself；　to　ignore　the　fact；　as　mere　coincidence；　that　it　was　an　animal　used　by　ninja　as　a　ritual　warning。　It　did　not　work。
　'I　got　claustrophobic；　all　right？　I　told　you　I　get　that　way　every　once　in　a　while。'
　'It's　not　safe　here。'
　'What　are　you　talking　about？　I'm　fortable　here。　This　is　my　house。　My　house；　Nick。'　With　the　light　bursting　through　all　around　her　like　an　aurora；　he　could　not　see　her　gestures。　He　did　not　need　to。
　'I　don't　think　you　understand。'
　'No；'　she　said　sadly。　'I'm　afraid　it's　you　who　don't　understand。'　She　took　a　step　forward。　'Why　don't　you　leave。　Please。'
　'What's　happened？'
　'There's　…　just　nothing　to　say。'
　'There　has　to　be。'
　'I　don't　want　to　talk　about　it；　that's　all。'
　'You're　not　the　only　one　who's　involved　here　now。〃
　'Nick　…　nobody's　involved。'
　'You　know　what　I　mean。'
　'Yes；　I　do。　That's　why　I'm　saying　this。　I'm　…　just　not　ready　for　anything　like　this。'
　'Like　what？'
　'Don't　force　me　to　spell　it　out。'
　'I　just　want　to　know　what　the　hell's　got　into　you。'
　'It's　just　…　you　don't　know　me　at　all。　I'm　like　this。　Changeable。　Erratic。'　She　sighed。　'Please　go；　Nick。　Don't　make　a　scene。'
　He　raised　his　hands；　palms　outward。　'No　scene。'　He　walked　towards　her。　'I　just　want　some　answers。'
　'You　won't　find　any　here。　Not　today；　anyway。'　She　began　to　turn　away　from　him；　back　into　the　light。
　'Justine；　wait！'　He　reached　out；　touched　her　arm。　；　'Get　away　from　me！'　she　cried；　hands　pushing　at　him。　And
　then　calmly　whispered；　'Get　away　from　me。　I　mean　it；　Nick。〃　He　turned　and　left　her　standing　there；　a　silhouette。
　Click。　Click…click。　Pause。　Click…clack…click。　Hail
　As　they　moved　back　and　forth　along　the　thin　line；　the　diameter　of　a　predetermined　circle；　Terry　felt　the　fear　of　an　opponent　for　the　first　time　in　his　life。
　As　a　master；　a　sensei；　fear　in　kenjutsu　was　an　unknown　thing　to　him。　Until　now。
　It　was　not　so　much　the　fear　of　defeat　…　even　he　had；　once　or　twice；　been　defeated　…　though　he　knew　from　the　opening　moments　that　this　man　could　quite　probably　take　him。　No；　it…was　something　more　subtle　than　that。　It　was　the　manner　in　which　this　man　…　this　Hideoshi　…　fought。　Style　was　imperative　in　kenjutsu；　one　could　tell　much　about　an　opponent　by　the　way　he　fought。　Not　only　where　he　had　studied　and　with　whom　but；　on　a　wider　scope；　just　what　kind　of　man　he　was。　For　style　was　also　philosophy　and；　yes；　religion。　What　one　respected　and　what　one　held　in　contempt。
　。Terry　was　concerned　now　because　he　saw　in　the　other's　martial　philosophy　a　lack　of　regard　for　human　life。　Ei　had　been　right　on　target　when　she　had　suggested　that　the　man　had　the　eyes　of　the　dead。　They　were　lustreless　and　as　shallow　as　glass。　Nothing；　it　appeared；　resided　behind　them。　Certainly　no　feeling。　And　this　worried　Terry。　He　had　heard　of　and　had　read　accounts　of　samurai　in　feudal　Japan　…　during　the　i6oos；　just　after　leyasu　Tokugawa　unified　the　warring　daimyo　by　founding　the　Tokugawa　shogunate；　which　would　last　two　hundred　years　…　who　cared　little　or　nothing　for　human　life。　They　were　killing…machines；　sent　out　to　do　their　lord's　bidding；　loyal　to　him　and　to　bushido　only。　Yet　the　code　of　bushido　had　within　it　the　core　of　passion；　rigid　and　unassailable　though　it　was。　A　core　these　men　chose　to　ignore。　He　had　often　wondered　what　it　was　that　had　so　corrupted　them。
　It　seemed　oddly　fitting　that；　now；　he　should　be　confronted　by　just　such　a　man。　It　was　as　if　he　had　stepped　out　of　another　age。　Karma；　Terry　thought。
　He　moved　to　his　left；　attacking；　but　was　at　once　balked。　Now　their　boftfen　whistled　through　the　air；　moving　so　swiftly
　that；　to　the　untrained　eye；　it　might　appear　as　if　the　two　batants　were　wielding　enormous　fans；　so　blurred　were　the　weapons'　movements。
　Terry　moved　to　one　knee；　sweeping　his　bokken　horizontally；　but　the　other　used　a　vertical　block。　A　less　experienced　swordsman　might　then　have　gone　for　the　kill；　using　the　two…handed　vertical　sky…to…ground　sweep。　This　would　have　brought　instant　disaster；　for　Terry　need　only　have　lunged　forward　several　inches；　the　point　of　his　weapon　piercing　the　attacker's　stomach；　to　vitiate　that　lethal　blow。
　Instead；　the　other　stepped　back；　forcing　Terry　to　regain　his　feet　to　continue　the　match。　There　had　already　been　two　draws　and；　as　the　hour　was　drawing　to　a　close；　this　would　be　the　last　match。　Yet；　as　he　blocked　several　lightning　thrusts；　Terry　had　the　unfortable　feeling　that　he　had　not　seen　this　man's　plete　repertory　of　strategy。　Truth　to　tell；　he　felt　as　if　the　other　had　been　toying　with　him　for　all　the　forty　minutes　they　had　been　at　it。
　Annoyed；　he　struck　and　struck　again。　But　instead　of　directly　countering；　the　other's　frozen　cleaved　to　his　as　closely　as　a　shadow；　moving　in　concert；　always　touching。　Then　they　were　close　together　and　Terry　had　his　first　good　look　at　the　other's　face。　It　was　just　the　flicker　of　an　instant；　perhaps　a　tenth　of　a　second　when　his　concentration；　his　zanshin　…　that　is；　physical　form　bined　with　mental　concentration　and　alertness　…wavered。　Almost　contemptuously；　the　other　flicked　at　Terry's　bol（kfn　with　his　own　weapon。　There　was　not　enough　time　to　react　fully　and；　with　the　other's　bokken　at　his　throat；　Terry　was　defeated。
　When　Justine　came　out　of　the　bedroom　to　make　herself　a　drink；　it　was　near　sunset。　However；　looking　out　of　the　windows　at　the　front　of　the　house；　she　saw　only　thick　banks　of　grey　clouds；　trailing　like　streamers　left　over　from　a　wild　party；　tattered；　shredding　in　the　winds　aloft。　The　wan　light　bleached　out　all　the　colour　from　the　land。　The　sand　looked　solid　and　lumpy　like　cooling　lead。
　She　stopped；　one　hand　around　the　neck　of　the　bottle　of　rum。　There　seemed　to　be　a　shadow　on　the　porch。　Letting　go　of　the
　bottle；　she　moved　slowly　to　her　right　to　get　a　better　view。　She　moved　past　the　centre　beam　between　the　two　picture　windows。　Curtains　fluttered；　further　obscuring　her　view。　She　moved　farther　to　her　left　and　stopped　dead　still。　The　shadow　had　bee　a　silhouette。　Someone　was　out　there。
　She　felt　a　nameless　fear　flood　her　body　and；　unconsciously；　she　put　a　hand　up　to　her　throat。　Her　heart　beat　like　a　triphammer　and　Nicholas's　words　abruptly　came　to　her。　/*'*　not　safe　here。　Is　this　what　he　meant？　She　wished　now　that　she　had　paid　more　attention　to　what　he　had　been　saying；　but　she　had　been　solely　intent　on　pushing　him　away；　had　heard　only　her　own　words。
　Now　she　wondered　wildly　whether　she　had　locked　the　door　after　he　had　left。　She　thought　not　but　could　not　be　certain。　Yet　she　dared　not　attract　attention　by　moving　to　it。　She　would　have　to　pass　directly　before　the　windows。　She　thought　of　crawling　but　was　too　frightened　of　making　some　noise。
　Then　she　thought　of　the　phone。　Keeping　her　eye　on　the　silhouette；　she　backed　up　slowly　into　the　hall。　She　reached　down　convulsively；　almost　knocking　the　receiver　to　the　floor。　She　went　to　her　knees　to　retrieve　it。　She　dialled　Nicholas's　number；　closing　her　eyes；　praying　he　was　home。　Each　solitary　ring　was　like　an　icicle　through　her　heart。　She　felt　chilled；　her　flesh　raised　in　goose…bumps　as　she　cradled　the　phone。
　She　went　silently；　on　dancer's　feet；　out　to　the　living…room；　sitting　on　the　arm…rest　of　the　sofa；　staring　at　the　silhouette。　She　considered　creeping　out　at　the　back　door。　But　then　what？　Pound　on　a　neighbour's　door？　And　say　what？　That　she　was　afraid　of　a　shadow？
　Abruptly；　she　felt　idiotic；　like　a　madwoman　trapped　within　the　nightmares　of　her　own　mind。　And；　after　all；　there　had　been　no　movement　of　the　silhouette　since　she　had　first　glimpsed　it。　It　could　be　a　chair…back　or　…
　She　was　up　and　moving　without　giving　herself　time　to　think；　to　back　out。　She　flung　the　door　open；　stepped　out　on　the　porch。　The　air　was　heavy　with　the　salt　of　the　sea；　yet　perhaps　the　humidity　was　abating　somewhat。　There　was　a　fresh　breeze　from　the　east。
　As　if　she　were　a　mechanical　doll；　she　forced　her　gaze　in　the
　direction　of　the　silhouette。
　'Nicholas！'　An　indrawn　breath。
　He　sat；　lotus　position；　forearms　resting　easily　on　the　points　of　his　knees；　staring　seaward。
　'What　are　you　doing？'　She　came　around　beside　him。　'Nick？'　She　stopped；　bending　down。　'What　the　hell　are　you　doing？〃
　'Thinking。'
　'About　what？'　It　was　a　simple　thing　to　say　but　perhaps；　considering　her　mood；　not　a　very　logical　one。　She　might　easily　have　said；　'Can't　you　do　it　somewhere　else　…　away　from　me？〃　Yet　she　had　not　and　this　surprised。her。　She　wondered　that；　in　finding　him　there；　a　guardian　of　her　house　…　of　her；　really　…rather　than　an　invader；　her　anxiety　had　dissipated　as　easily　as　a　bad　dream。　In　its　place　was　…　what？　As