Beta lept after the white ninja rabbit. ‘how odd’ he thought giving chase through the trees. ‘That the next furry I run into is clearly japanese of origin. Even his breed of rabbit is clearly that of one of the japanese islands, not a jack rabbit that was commonly used for their speed. ‘this one is agile, but small… i wonder how old he is’ beta mused. realizing that with furries, age is relative.
He didn’t have that difficult of a time keeping on the rabbits tail, it was catching him that Beta was having difficulty with. that worried him. ‘I should be able to overtake this boy without any problem… but I can’t catch him.’ he frowned as he dodged, then caught, yet another dagger thrown back at him. ‘I wonder why he doesn’t take that sword and attack me with it.’ He wondered. ‘He stands at least an even chance of striking me. but he’s running as though he’s not allowed to… strange...’ then beta saw a mark on the sheath of the katana that make him remember a mission many years ago…
Beta’s group were to assault a yakuza lord named Nakamura Shuichi. He owned a small island in the Pacific. one of a thousand such tropical islands. For Five generations his clan’s Yakuza and Ninja’s were ichibarro. The best. They were subtle in their security rackets, but also fair. Their ninjas were the best of any assassins available since before the Shogunate. The rot hadn’t set in until the 80’s. It was American drugs that began the downfall of the clan.
By the early 2000’s the once honorable Nakamura Yakuza clan had disgraced itself by becoming involved in prostitution, slavery, all kinds of drugs, illegal weapon sales and the like. The current father of the clan was in his 71st year, and hated what it had become. It was his son the now ironically named Hiromasa, meaning broad minded and just, began the trade in whores and drugs in the 1960’s, during the American war in Vietnam.
The new trade vastly increased his son’s standing, and his son Ichiro, the old man’s beloved grandson, great honor among the Yakuza clans. Sadly Shuichi’s son Hiromasa was murdered in the early 80’s by a whore he was sleeping with. The grandson recently had died to an overdose of the drug he himself created! Ichiro had graduated with honors from an American university in engineering and bio-chemistry.
The second grandson, Kiyoshi pure, saintly, the quiet one, had used the clan’s money to follow a strange obsession with creating something called a furry.He had first created a kind of virus that mutated women into a cat-girl thing. Giving them real cat-like tails and ears. These they had been selling on the slave market for many years now, and Shuichi had felt this second son should have been allowed to take over once his less honorable brother had died in such a disgraceful way. But by now the family business was run like an American corporation, and the family no longer had enough political power. That was when the tip went out.
So the American spies who were so incompetent as to allow this Yakuza clan to infiltrate into their own country for so long had received an anonymous tip about the whereabouts of the heart of the organization. It included such details as air support, radar capacity, security arrangements, and the like. Shuichi had instructed his grandson to disappear, like a shinobi. But before his grandson had followed Obasan’s (grandfather) command, he had left a present, a perfect furry. The boy was no more than 13 human years old. He had been kept around the family castle, for the old man insisted on a traditional Japanese castle design for his home. He had been taught in the way of the Shinobi. The honorable profession of Ninja.
His, Shuichi’s, ninja were not money grubbing mercenaries, but men, and women, of great honor. They took great honor in their craft. They all obeyed him without question. It pained the old man that he had betrayed them. He knew the Americans would probably bomb them all into oblivion. ‘Perhaps they will use another one of their damned atomic weapons’ he once thought bitterly. He, like most Japanese, had last much family in those atomic blasts.
‘My people will die honorably.’ He pondered, ‘At their posts, doing their duty.’ He coughed violently into a kerchief of western design. It had initials monogrammed into it. His beloved wife. She had been a Japanese American. Oh how he missed her dearly. She had been the true one love in his life. The only time he acted...’dishonorably’. He took a gaijin as his wife. She was considered a foreigner because her family, while still ‘pure Japanese’, had been in the damned country for at least thirty years.
Shuichi had loved her from the moment he saw her. Her name was Amy Hattori. Her’s was a noble blood. They were once great merchants who, for assorted reasons, had emigrated to San Francisco. She spoke little Japanese beyond what her family spoke at home, but her wit was sharper than any woman Shuichi had known on the island. He had proposed almost immediately. She had made him wait six months for her answer.
Her ability to keep him waiting, yet increase his interest in her only proved her worthiness to be his wife. They had only one son, Hiromasa. He was glad she had died before she could see what her little ‘hero’ had grown into. His son had taken a random Tokyo whore as his wife. She was cruel, but had borne two sons before she befell a ‘tragic accident’ herself. By then Hiromasa had already moved on to yet another mistress.
Shuichi made sure they never lasted long. Hiromasa had been suspicious, but had never proven his father was behind their deaths. But he hardly cared anyway. He knew his sons would be safe, and that was all that mattered. Women were a commodity to him, nothing else. A thing to be used and thrown away.Shuichi disliked this old view of women. His own wife had actually helped run the family business for many years, and had greatly improved it in some areas. Sadly she had succome to influenza, and his heart had hardened.
Nearly a year after he sent the tip, Shuichi had about given up on those damned Americans, they came.
It was decided that an air raid was necessary. THey would fly in using new medium range flying backpacks. The packs weighed about 40 kilograms plus ten for fuel, 50 Kg total. The packs weighed as much as the furries did. They were deployed from a old style nuclear submarine, whose tube had long since been disabled. THey were now used as launch pads for VTOL airplanes, mini helicopters, and short-run mini jets… and furry commandos wearing state of the art personal jet packs.
The sinkable carriers were considered invaluable for the super secret operations like “the Lab”. They were the usual jumping off point for the furries who actually had better quarters, food, and in general lives when they were preparing for missions. Dobsin was only in charge of “the Lab”. The field officer was Captain Jack Smith. He was a retired navy SEAL. He loved working with the furries, and tried many times to get them permanently transferred to his his personal command. Sadly, Dobsin had too much dirt on their superiors. So this all Captain Smith could do.
They flew in fast and low. as soon as they hit the coast they lowered their burn and flew in on minimal power, gliding fast. Gamma was actually on the boat using a super high powered riffle, taking out guards one at a time. the pop, pop, pop of each shot long since dissipated into the air long after their bullets found heads to go through.
However two gliders plus the assassin were too few for this mission. Three SEALs volunteered to increase the numbers. They all had over a hundred hours, each, using the gliders, plus HALO jumping, as well as normal squirrel suit use. They volunteered because the furries were their comrades. It never mattered to them that they were intelligent animals. They were intelligent. They had emotions, and they were all fun at poker… especially Alpha.
Beta stayed in low while the others went straight up into the clouds. The idea was to come at them from above after they took out the radar, and bomb the hell out of the area. Beta was to land near the residences and take out the old man. After that they would completely flatten the island. The main objective was to take out the leader then destroy the body… as usual.
There were alarms going off all over the island. Men were disappearing from their psots one by one. In fact they were dying, heads silently exploding, only the sound like that of a coconut being crushed by a silent bat hit before brain matter and blood flew everywhere.
Shuichi sighed heavily. “such noise and mess these Americans make” He hated the way Americans tended to do things… loudly and with too many guns and explosives. He could not deny it was effective, “back in my time, I would have sent in no more than five ninjas, and by morning all would be dead… not a sound to be heard” he remarked to his furry retaining.
“Hai, OSensei” the small white rabbit-boy responded. ‘Yes, honorable master’. “Anata wa, nani ka?” ‘what are you going to do?’
“Oh… I will face him. I will likely die too.” The old man said with a voice that mirrored his weariness. ‘I hope he’s competent… or I will have to simply kill him’ he thought grimly. He would be very angry if he was simply shot, but even more so if the assassin sent had such meager skill that he could be killed by an old man.
“MASAKA! IIE! Sore wa Ichibarro!” ‘IMPOSSIBLE! NO! You are the absolute best!’ the boy cried out! His master was the greatest living swordsman in all of Japan… if they were still in Japan. The government had actually exiled him many years before. They gave him the ‘honorable’ option of leaving the islands, to this one, forever. Or he could be arrested and executed, cut down like a dog. His master had taken the ‘honorable retirement’ option.
The old man smiled lovingly down at his ‘grandson’. He had adopted Hiroshi to be his successor. He dearly loved the present of his now disappeared grandson. This boy would have willingly followed him into the lowest pits of hell. However he had other plans for him. He would make sure this boy survived. He pointed to an alcove.
“You will hide here until it is safe to run away.” he began and when he saw his grandson try to argue he made a harsh chip with his left hand, his dominant. “NO!” he said harshly. He could not allow Hiroshi to die here. “You will NOT stay, you will NOT fight… and you will not die my son.” He said, finishing gently. He often called him ‘my son’ because it felt natural and right… despite the boy being essentially of a different species.
Hiroshi lowered his head “hai” ‘yes’. and complied. He knew the escape route. there were many tunnels under the island that would allow him to escape. Only the family knew of these passages. The rest of the island would die… ‘honorably’ he thought miserably. ‘While I live. I am a failure as a ninja if I let my master die before me.’ he hated knowing he would be the last Nakamura...’and I'm not even a real Nakamura.. i’m a genetically created freak’.
He meekly went to his place of silent observation. it was a tiny window that had a near 180’ field of view thanks to the new type of wall eye glass on the outside. even better it was nearly undetectable, and even then only when one knew what to look for. He would watch his world end with a perfect view.
Beta landed just inside the main residence. Looking up he saw the old man. THe old man was surprised to see another furry, and a rabbit type at that. However even from their distance he could see that this Usagi knew death. They both knew death so well they both looked at the same place between them… and there he stood. The grim reaper. He stood quietly, holding his scythe, the reaper of souls. They all nodded acceptance. One of them would not be leaving here alive. The rabbit and old man both smiled a grim smile at the simplicity of it all.
Beta reached down and picked up a katana from one of the fallen guards. he took a moment to admire it’s construction. It’s ballance was perfect. it’s blade was perfect. The handle was done in the old style. But it was clearly a ninja’s blade. Beta could feel several switches, buttons, and hidden chambers. Beta picked up the sheath, it too was a Ninja’;s toolkit. Beta decided he’d keep the set to remember this case. Beta then said a quick Shinto prayer for the dead after accepting his gift of the katana.
The old man was shocked that the usagi, rabbit, knew their customs. He would never know what an otaku Beta was. That he spoke the language … well not fluently, but exceptionally well. He would take exquisite care of his “real frikkin ninja sword” until the day he had to leave the lab.
Beta and the old man approached each other, stopping within 20 paces, the traditional distance.Beta would take a low stance, Sei-Gedan. Shuichi would take the high stance, Jodan. The explosions, fire, screams and sounds and smells of death surrounding them may as well not have been there. For all the combatants were concerned, only they existed. The rest of the universe disappeared.
The old man let the Usagi come to him. He struck down, but the usagi was gone. He only saw the barest of a flash and a direction. The usagi moved faster than he’d ever seen, and he was the fastest fighter HIS sensei had ever seen. However the old man had over sixty years of sword fighting experience on his side. He swung his sword down and parried the usagi’s blow. He then swung his left leg back and continued blow down.
Beta had to move to the left, swinging his sword up to strike the old man’s side, but again he was parried and counter attacked. Beta kept moving around the old man. attack, parry, counter. Attack, perry, counter, strike! The old man was gaining on Beta. He was highly impressed. In all truth Beta knew he was outclassed in every way by this old man.
The old man began to take the offensive. He was disappointed in his assassin. He decided he would just have to kill him… perhaps he would try to wound him. He would make a nice play thing for his Hiroshi. This assassin was good, no doubt. But he lacked finesse. The boy, the old man won convinced this ‘man’ could be no more than 16 at the most, lacked experience in sword fighting. He was an assassin, clearly competent, but no kendo master.
Beta felt the tide turning. He knew he had very little time. He wanted to give this old man an honorable death. In truth Beta would have fought this seasoned master all day and night until one of them finally made a lethal mistake and the correct fighter died. As it stood Beta knew his duty. He had already spend too much time dueling him already.
The old man was shocked to his core when their eyes met. The usagi’s eyes were full of regret. Not at his death or defeat… but Shuichi’s! That’s when it hit Shuichi. Their short battle rapidly running through his mind. The usagi after the third strike and parry could have killed him. Shuichi smiled and nodded at Beta. He understood duty. This one was sent to assassinate him, no more. instead he had given Shuichi one of the best fights of his life. He would die with honor.
Beta lept back over two dozen feet, landing at his jet pack. He kept his back towards his opponent. He knew the old man would not attack him as long as his back was turned to him. It was dishonorable, and Beta had honored him with a good battle. Both knew the outcome now. There was no point to continue with pretense. Beta did not have the raw talent alone to kill the old man. He was all about speed, and they both knew it. Beta moved faster than the old man could see, he had figured that out after the second parry and counter strike.
The old man was running on pure instinct. Beta could only smile as he put his gear on. ‘That old man is as old school as they come. Pity I have to kill him… but my family are waiting for me. I can’t risk their lives any longer. Beta calculated his final stroke options. Ideally he would strike the old man in such a way he would have three minutes to say goodbye. One minute for every minute they fought. The old man deserved… earned that much at least.
After Beta had secured his backpack, and katana, he turned around to face the old man. “Abayo… Sempai!” he said. ‘Farewell… my senior’. Beta had just acknowledged the old man as the superior fighter. “But I have my own Nakamada to protect.” Beta said in clear English. The old man nodded, sheathed his sword and took a standard iaijutsu… the quick strike.
He would draw his sword faster than the human eye could track. Beta smiled sadly. ‘I’m not human Obasan’.THen he was off. Beta moved faster than sight. His jets adding very little to his speed. The old man struck… and missed. Beta lowered his left ear as he dodged the old man’s beautiful strike, and allowed the tip of his ear to be cut off. Beta put his leg down, swung around and struck as he leapt straight up, his blade striking true.
Beta’s blade started at the old man’s left thigh and crossed the old man;s chest as beta spiraled up his blade leaving the old man’s right shoulder. The cut would open his entrails and entire body to the elements in a minute. Beta estimated the old man would find a way to survive longer… but no more than three minutes.
Beta shot straight up, unable to sheath his sword. He had a tear in his eyes, hidden by his visor. He wept for the reasons why this had to be done. Beta had read the old man’s dossier. He was honorable. He ran his yakuza organization honorably. If only his son hadn’t gotten into drugs… Beta shook his head as he and his team flew away and back towards the submersible carrier as stealth fighters flew in to bomb the place out of existence in little over 10 minutes.
Hiroshi was running towards his master as beta lept up into teh sky, unable to look back. His eyes were fileld with tears, his hands fileld with bandages. moments later he had covered his master’s body in tight bandages,that almsot immediately turned crimson, like a twistedly beautiful flower, blossoming into crimson pedals.
“MASTER! MASTER WHY!?” he screamed as he threw on a second and third set of bandages across his master’d doomed form. The strike had been perfect. Shuichi knew it. He would be dead soon, and he needed to make himself understood by Hiroshi before then.
With a simple motion, Hiroshi was quiet. His long ears up, listening to his master, who had picked up the three inch long piece of ear he had cut off. “it’s so soft… like my little Hiroshi’s furr” he mused. Then he looked up at Hiroshi, the blood loss already affecting his attention. “Hiroshi, you must obey me completely” he said in an ever diminishing voice. “I order you to present my katana to the one who just defeated me.” he smiled, blood beginning to leak from his mouth. he had even less than he estimated. “He fought with honor, as you saw. He killed me with honor. You must present him this katana, our family sword… with …. ho..n….or” he gasped as he fell over. the sword in it’s sheath in one hand. closest to Hiroshi who caught it almost reflexively, as Beta’s ear tip in his other hand.
At the age of 71, on a secret island in the Pacific that no one will ever remember, Nakamura Shuichi, last great master of the Nakamura yakuza clan died with a content smile on his face.
Hiroshi recalled this most painful of memories as he ran from Beta in this strange forest he had trapped. ‘That damned freak won’t die!’ he thought angrily. He had spent two years looking for him onto to nearly die in a snow storm. If he hadn’t followed a strange, small white rabbit cousin into a hole he would have died. He appeared here, only a month ago, where he heard about this two legged rabbit/fox thing’s exploits. Hiroshi knew it had to be his master’s murderer. He would present the katana… in Beta’s chest!
Beta, for the first time felt all was right in the universe. Here he was a half fox chasing a rabbit. His instinct were happier than he’s known in so long. His prey was clear, his objective was clear. There were no murky moral question. no confusion about who was right, and who was wrong, at least in his own mind. This rabbit was a threat to Beta’s family, and he, a fox, would catch… and kill him.
For the first time in god-knows how long the universe made sense… then the log hit him.