White Crane Read Free Page B

hands Yoshi a big harness for strapping packages to his back. Three bottles of
dokudami
wine are tied to the frame. Thick stoppers hold the liquid and its smell in place.
    “Last, you will visit Onaku, the Sword Master. He has a message for me.”
    My heart jumps high. The Sword Master is crafting our new swords! In four days, at our Coming-of-Age Ceremony, we swap our childhood weapons for the
katana
and the
wakizashi:
the long, curved blade and the short, sharp dagger of a warrior samurai. Our studying will be half over.
    The White Crane strains to fly skyward.
    Yoshi puts on a traveling hat, tilting it forward to cover his face. I do the same.
    “Be careful you don’t trip.” Taji laughs. “Now, if it were me, I don’t need to see where I’m going. . . .”
    Sensei puts his fingers to his lips. No more talking.
    “Go quickly, Little Cockroaches. You must scurry to the village before sunset. The path grows treacherous.”
    Everyone looks surprised.
    “The path was never dangerous before.” Mikko voices our thoughts.
    “What was true yesterday might be a lie today. Paths always change,” says Sensei.
    “Perhaps they shouldn’t go.” Kyoko worriedly fiddles with the egg in her pocket.
    “A samurai runs toward danger.” Sensei raises his arms. “Hurry! Hurry!”
    It is our signal to leave.

    With Sensei’s warning stalking our heels, we hasten downward. The path is steep and narrows in places where we have to hug the mountainside as we edge around the rocky outcrops. Even with my crutch under my arm, I am a fast walker and have no trouble keeping up with Yoshi’s long strides. It’s a four-hour walk to the village, so we’ll be there long before sunset.
    “I can’t see anything different. There’s no danger here,” I say. The White Crane swoops out into the valley, and my heart is as light as its feathers.
    “I don’t think there is anything to worry about. Sensei probably has a lesson hidden somewhere,” agrees Yoshi.
    Sensei never stops teaching. “Life is a lesson,” he says. I wish the lessons were more interesting. Like how many bowls of honey rice pudding can a boy eat in five minutes? Or how far can an egg roll?
    But Sensei asks difficult questions. Questions like: “Which came first: the chicken or the egg?”
    I like to think with my stomach. The egg came first because it’s omelette for breakfast and chicken noodles for dinner.
    The question reminds me of the lunch Sensei packed. “I’m hungry.”
    Yoshi’s stomach growls. “Me too.”
    Unwrapping little parcels of egg and chicken rice, I wonder if maybe the chicken and the egg came together.
    We eat and walk. Since we left the
ryu,
I haven’t seen a single living thing. Not even a bird. While I search the sky, a lizard darts across under my feet, forcing me to lurch forward. Strong arms steady me. Yoshi has a wrestler’s timing. I want to say, “If you fight for us, we’re sure to win the wrestling event.” But we try not to ask Yoshi why he doesn’t want to fight. “Thanks,” I say instead.
    I feel better now that I have seen a lizard. It reminds me of Mikko. Poor Striped Gecko stuck in the class­room practicing calligraphy, while Yoshi and I munch our way down the mountain.
    “Maybe the Games won’t be so bad this year,” I mumble through a mouthful.
    “I think we will surprise people,” says Yoshi.
    That’s for sure. The sight of us — one-armed, one-legged, and the rest — is a surprise every time.
    Yoshi’s mood matches mine. Happy. Excited. We kick stones over the edge.
    Farther along the track, a flock of pitta birds flies upward. Another group follows. Their bright red, blue, and green wings swamp the sky with feathers. The air echoes with their frightened
piphy-piphy
calls. Then nothing. It’s suddenly still and silent.
    “Eerie,” murmurs Yoshi.
    The White Crane agrees. It wants to open its wings and follow the pitta birds.
    As a cloud moves over the sun, the mountain grows cold and gray. There’s