Ch. 2: End of Innocence

For as far back as Kaminari Ming remembered, his guardian never asked for much. Everything the kindly old man did was done for him without reservation. Yet as Kaminari neared adolescence, he took that for granted. Not that he was ungrateful, but such little acts of kindness became unnoticed, jumbled among the events of daily life. After all, the world was far too exciting to preoccupy oneself with the ordinary, especially for 16 year old boys.

Perched atop an enormous camphor tree, Kaminari could see the wide view of the mountain valley for miles around. Gentle rolling knolls framed by white winding rivers, interrupted by neat boxed in patches of waving yellow paddies. Harvest season had come and the sweet scent of ripe rice drifted on the cool breeze.

For a moment, Kaminari took it all in, letting his senses, his very being; permeate with the natural rhythm of the world. The soft wind caressed his cheeks and he let out a barking laugh, startling a flock of rice birds into flight. Like the land, he wanted to go on forever.

At least until a rough, calloused hand seized his wrist and brought him back to reality. A brown wrinkled face popped up from between the boughs, glaring at him with a toothless scowl.

"That is where you been shirking off to, you rascal. What trouble are you up to now?"

The youth sighed as he allowed himself to be dragged from the heights. Landing with a soft plop unto the ground, he stared down at the wizen old man with resignation. "I'm not up to anything, Master Zhung, honest. I just need a break, that's all." He reached down and retrieved the hoe from among the tree roots.

Zhung tsked and shook his head. "Young ones these days find any excuse not to do their work. Harvest time's here and we need all the strong backs in town."

"Oh, you're still fit yourself, Master," Kaminari gave him a lopsided grin. "To be climbing after kids like me."

The toothless grin grew wider. "Flattery won't get you anywhere, little friend. I need your help loading the wagon for the temple today. I've got some supplies for Jade Village that needs to be delivered.

About 50 miles away, Jade Village's lowlands were often susceptible to raids, unlike Shikon Village, which was hemmed in by the purple misty mountains that served as a natural barrier. Only one gate allowed travels to enter and leave. For centuries no one could successfully breach its defenses. As a result, Shikon was a center of trade, farming, and served as a relief depot.

Brushing back a stray lock of white hair, Kaminari nodded. "Sure thing, Master. Could we have lessons after that?" He asked eagerly.

Zhung chuckled. "Of course. But only until the wagon is loaded and…"

But Kaminari was off like a bolt, leaving the old man blinking in surprise in his wake. Zhung smiled and shrugged. Youths. Always in a hurry. He watched as the boy vanished over the crest of the hill.

On arriving at his destination, Kaminari was greeted by the Jade Village guardsman with a hearty welcome. Being a constant visitor, he became known among the people and the two parties would exchange valuable news with each other as well as the latest gossip.

The lieutenant reached out and grabbed the first rice bag from Kaminari. "That's it lad. Nice and slow. How fare the roads?"

Kaminari grinned. "Peaceful as always. I even took the longer route today. You should have seen the Hoang Tsu ruins."

The other frowned and shook his head. "I was wondering what took you. It's nice that you're enjoying yourself, from all that temple training and whatnot, but you should be a bit more cautious these days."

"Feh. I'm not afraid of bandits," the boy replied with a laugh.

"Really?" Placing his hands on his hip, the guardsman eyed him. "So you think you can take them on with those karate moves Master Zhung taught you?" He thrashed his arms in a mock attempt to imitate Kaminari.

The youth laughed. "It's not Karate, Ling, it is Nan Chuan, Southern Fist Boxing, you know." He removed the staff from its sling behind his back. "I've been working on a bit of Nan gun too." He gave his staff a few outward thrusts, demonstrating some moves against an invisible foe.

Ling chuckled as he shouldered a sack. "Not bad, kid. Not bad at all. But all the same, I want you to stick to the main road when you head home. There are reports of ninjas in the area."

Kaminari's blue eyes widened. "No way! Ninjas? What clan?"

The smile from Ling faltered, replaced with a stern gaze. "They're ninjas and therefore are dangerous. I don't want you going after them. You hear me?" He gripped Kaminari's shoulder. "Promise me you'll head straight home, no dawdling."

Disappointed, Kaminari nodded, shoving back a few strands of white hair from his face. He sighed. "Okay Ling, I promise. But at least tell me who they are."

"Well, there are two clans running about. One is the Lin Kuei and the other is some other group that wears red armor." He pointed toward a grove of trees in the distance. "So far their fighting is restricted there, but every so often they venture into the fields. We suspect they're in the middle of a clan war, but so far there are no civilian casualties. Still, we're not taking any chances. Curfews been set up for the villagers' safety."

His eyes squinted against the glare of the sun, Kaminari strained to see through the forest growth, hoping to catch sight of a moving form among the trees. He tried to imagine them fighting, using their secret techniques.

It took perhaps the entire day before all the grain was distributed for by the time he finished, it was already late in the afternoon. Still, Kaminari didn't mind. His slender muscles had become hard and firm under the constant transport of rice sacks, until he could hardly feel their weight anymore. He easily became the strongest boy in Shikon thanks to Master Zhung's training. He could out run, out climb, and out fight any of his friends; not that they minded, since Kaminari was never one to boast. Just the joy of using every part of his body was enough, for only then was he truly living.

His life with the monks at the Wushu Academy had honed in every part of his being. His studies in herbology, mathematics, calligraphy, history, and fighting techniques contributed to his knowledge and widened his perspective of the world. Training with Master Zhung taught him discipline and virtue, as well as allowing his body to reach its full potential. Yes, Kaminari owed everything to them, even his life. They had taken him in when he was just a child, lost and wandering in the summer thunderstorm. Since then they called him Kaminari, meaning "thundering" for this reason. For 12 years they treated him as their own.

A voice called him, jarring him from his thoughts. As he looked up he noticed that they had finished loading in the last of the pottery, which were given as gifts to the monks by the villagers as a reward for their kindness. Eagerly, Kaminari climbed aboard the seat and grasped the reins. The donkey brayed impatiently. With a snap, they were off.

"Thank you! See you next time." Kaminari called back waving at the villagers until they vanished around the bend. As the walls of Jade Village receded into the distance, Kaminari grinned and bit into the melon bread that a kindly old lady had given him. Its sweet, tangy taste ran along his tongue. Though he had the reins at hand, the donkey led the way, being familiar with the road for so long.

Kaminari leaned back and smiled contently, letting the rays of the fading sun fall unto his features. His thoughts drifted from the sights around him, to what was for supper, to anticipation of his next session with Master Zhung. The old man had said he was already close to finishing his Nan Chuan lessons.

Not that he was worried. A couple of weeks seemed far off. There was still time right?

An abrupt halt from the donkey startled him and Kaminari stared about in confusion. "What's the hold up?" He dropped to the ground, brandishing his staff. As he strode to the front he found the cause of it all.

An old gnarled tree stretched across the path, obstructing the road. But it seemed light enough. Kaminari stooped and seized one of its roots. He had just lifted it a couple feet when a yell came from the shrubbery next to him.

He jumped back just as the dagger sailed pass him. The attacker's momentum shot him clear past Kaminari.

Without pause, Kaminari followed with a blow aimed to the stomach as the man turned but missed. He ducked, sweeping his opponent off his feet with a slash at the legs. The figure rolled, recovering and stood, twin daggers poised.

The stalemate gave Kaminari a good look at his opponent. 'He doesn't look like a ninja' he thought disappointedly. The man's thin, high boned face contorted with rage. He couldn't be that much older than Kaminari.

"Give me what you have, peasant," he snarled.

"As you wish." Kaminari slid, catching him off guard, and went for his open left side. He missed as the thief deflected the staff with a palm strike. Only by pulling back did Kaminari avoid a neck wound. 'Damn, he's fast!' He hopped back, circling to search for the next target to hit.

This time the man dove in with an elbow jab. It connected with Kaminari's chest, sending the youth down, panting and groaning. But just as the thief brought down his foot at the other's back, Kaminari seized it. The shift in balance sent the bandit tumbling to the ground. The daggers vanished into the grass.

Sure enough, the man reached for his boot for another hidden weapon. Out came Kaminari's staff, delivering a sharp stinging blow across his knuckles. The thief yelped and suddenly Kaminari was behind him, the staff under his throat, threatening to cut off his air. The bandit froze.

"Okay," Kaminari panted, wincing from the elbow hit to his chest. "How about you tell me how sorry you are for attacking harmless travelers. I'm sure the authorities would love to hear that."

"Fuck off," the man scowled, struggling futilely. "I got to eat too you know."

Amused, Kaminari chuckled. "Haven't heard that one before. I suppose you'll be telling me about the wife and kids next, right?"

In the end, Kaminari was back on the road again. The sun was close to setting by the time he could see Shikon's distance posts rise up to meet him. The delay had made him hungry. He hoped that the temple would have something more substantial than porridge tonight.

"Shikon's a nice town," he called over his shoulder. "At least the prison is friendly enough."

The thief's face had turned a deep crimson as he continued to be tugged along by the end of rope, fettered to the back of the wagon, dragged along like a common cattle. He said nothing but glared at Kaminari with those hateful dark eyes.

But as they approached the crest of the hill, Kaminari saw it, and his heart skipped a beat. Like an ominous monster, a billowing cloud of black smoke sat above Shikon, hurling showers of sparks and debris. Fear welled up within his chest.

"Get up here, NOW!" Without consent, Kaminari, snatched up the thief and deposited him into the wagon seat. He snapped the reins, and the donkey lunged forward at breakneck speed, cutting across the fields at an insane pace. Still, Kaminari pressed on, jumping out of the cart before it came to a full stop.

On foot he came to the town gate; only to find it stood wide open with not a single soul standing guard. Only carrion birds danced madly about the palisade walls, fighting over an unidentifiable object skewered through a pike.

Kaminari's heart beat within his throat, his breath caught but he yelled and waved his arms madly. The vultures took off in a burst of black feathers. As he got closer, he could make out the stench of charred flesh. There, grinning like a demented specter, a blackened skull perched atop the pike, an omen of the greater horrors he would find within.