Side Story #8: Toshio's Survival Test

<Author’s note: This story takes place before the events of Book 1.>

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Side Story 8: Toshio’s Survival Test

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■■ Undisclosed Location ■■

Toshio was alone—to the unobservant eye—in a temperate forest you wouldn’t find on any official map. It had once been home to several tribes of Kondos until the army chased many of them out. The ones that didn’t run were smoked out and burned alive by shugenja, resulting in the greatest wildfire the country had ever seen.

Many Hyugans lost their lives in that fire, though history wouldn’t remember them: the whole event went unwritten and to speak of it warranted a hefty fine. What remained of the forest was forbidden to enter without official cause. The untouched wilds made it perfect for training ninjas in the art of survival.

Though for babysitting the offspring of nobles, it was far from ideal.

Toshio let out a sigh before picking up three pebbles from the ground. He tossed them every which way: one up into a tree, another into a pile of ferns, and the last into a fleshy mound attempting to hide behind a rock that was smaller than he was.

“Ippei, Hatsue, Morio! Each of you fail.”

Groans came out from the three ninja-in-training, who had the misfortune of having the Heartless Hound as their temporary instructor. Their new bruises were also temporary, though you wouldn’t know it from how much they whined.

“Itai...it hurts, Toshio-sensei! Look—it’s bleeding!” cried Morio, who was probably the most overweight ninja in the force. That he was able to get this far into the program with such poor conditioning spoke volumes of the current state of Imperial shinobi. Aristocratic families were sending their sons and daughters to become ninjas instead of samurai, as a way around mandatory enlistment.

“Shut up, Morio! Your face was already ugly to begin with,” came a sharp reply from the group’s kunoichi. The female ninja, Hatsue, was the most spoiled among them and particularly vain—her ninja outfit was a flashy silk yukata which she couldn’t stand to get stained.

“Ah geez guys...let’s um, not get into another argument, okay?” said the wimpiest one of them all. Ippei was the younger brother of a ninja in Toshio’s class, and they both had the tendency to be pushovers who never strayed from the path of least resistance.

Toshio clicked his tongue. They lacked discipline and respect for the profession. The ninja masters from the past would say the same. The old masters—those men and women had changed the course of entire battles, ended clans and starting uprisings. Their resolve, intelligence and abilities were the stuff of legends.

One such legend was Toshio’s own master, Fujibayashi, called the Warrior of the Wind, who’s last act was to teach a Kondo child to be worthy of the future Emperor’s service. It was no small task, and certainly not an easy one for a young boy to undergo. “You passed on all you knew to me, Fuji-sama. For that I am forever grateful.”

“That looks to be a sizeable gash,” Toshio remarked after inspecting Morio’s forehead. “How would you go about healing such a wound, and preventing infection?”

“Um well uh, we’d use disinfectant balm and bandages. We’ve got plenty back at camp,” Ippei answered. He wasn’t wrong but when Toshio asked him what he’d do without them, the young ninja was at a loss.

Toshio pointed to a nearby plant, with leaves both green and purple. “That’s shiso: a mint leaf you’ll often find wrapped around sushi. It can serve as a disinfectant in a pinch. And for sealing wounds, pine sap is among the best you can find.”

*KkaKRah* *KraKah*

The call of a bird broke out into the distance. Of course Toshio knew at once what the bird was—or more specifically, who it was. “What did the message say? Do any of you know?”

They looked at their instructor as if he was joking, before realizing he wasn’t. Ippei was the first to admit defeat. “I um, well I don’t speak bird. I don’t think anybody does, Toshio-sensei.”

Their instructor feared as much, and rushed into a quick lecture on how ninjas often used bird calls to give messages over long distances without arousing suspicion. “This particular call comes from the red-crowned crane, which hails from the North. Our guest does too, for that matter.”

*growl*

That call came from Morio’s stomach. He grabbed it and groaned, and asked about dinner. The group had been away from camp since this morning, doing exercises and getting scolded all the while. It brought up an important subject Toshio had been wanting to discuss: fasting.

“Fasting?” Morio asked, unable to understand Toshio’s question. “That’s just something monks do for religious reasons. Right?”

Toshio shook his head. “The human body can go weeks without food. Fasting for a few days at a time often has a cleansing effect and increases energy. In a survival situation, food is never your priority. Shelter, water and fire are.”

“Survival situation? Like, we’re ninjas, not a bunch of backwater hermits! I’m only going to be stationed in cities—like Jijinto or Hokusei,” Hatsue declared with a knowing grin. Given her family’s connections, the girl was accustomed to getting what she wanted. That was about to change sooner rather than later.

“Ninja must be prepared for anything and everything. Do not underestimate what nature can throw at you.”

“I suppose you can predict the weather, too?”

Toshio was taken aback by the reply. Not because it was particularly snarky, but because the shinobi had assumed forecasting the weather was an obvious skill. “Let me ask you this: was there any dew on the ground this morning?” The group shrugged in unison. “Then how about the fire back at the campsite—during breakfast, did the smoke go straight up or curl off to the side?”

Again there were shrugs. Their instructor was at his limit.

“Start paying attention to your surroundings! A ninja in service to His Imperial Majesty can’t afford to be empty-headed!”

After scolding them and recovering his composure, Toshio decided it was time to head back to camp. Morio was still bleeding and lagging behind the others—even more so than usual. He was lightheaded, Toshio guessed, more due to the lack of lunch than blood loss. Even so, this presented a good opportunity. He gave Hatsue the order.

“You’re serious?! He weighs like, twice as much as me!” Hatsue snapped, her face scrunched in disgust. “No woman can carry such an overstuffed pig!”

“They can if they carry the person properly. Allow me to demonstrate.”

Toshio proceeded to grab hold of Morio’s hand, before bending down and wrapping his other arm behind the fat ninja’s leg, heaving him up over his shoulders. “After getting the injured person across your shoulders, lift with your legs and hips—not your back. You may have to adjust his body to maintain balance. Keep your core engaged to help maintain a straight back.”

“Wow! Toshio-sensei makes Morio look light!” Ippei cheered.

“I feel like I’m flying! Please carry me the rest of the way, Toshio-sensei!”

“Yeah, we get it—you’re amazing. The Heartless Hound is the perfect ninja,” Hatsue grumbled with a healthy amount of sarcasm. That irksome nickname had spread even to the younger students, it seemed, as Toshio’s reputation in the capital grew. The idea of a ninja with any reputation at all was...disconcerting.

When the four of them made their way back to camp they saw a fire going and a man waiting for them. This was Tamaki Uesugi, the Northerner Toshio had worked with in the past. He was more easygoing and friendly than Toshio was—though that applied to just about anybody.

“I was wondering if Toshio-san would have you back before nightfall,” Tamaki said with a smile. It turned into a frown after inspecting the students, especially Morio’s forehead. “I just came in from Yamato—the higher ups want to make sure the fresh recruits aren’t getting pushed too hard. And looking at those bruises, I’d have to say they were right to worry.”

“Oh, and I brought some supplies, too. How does a dinner of fresh yakitori and udon sound?”

Cheers erupted from the students. Morio was close to tears. The three were quickly enamored with Tamaki, who was playing his role as the cool older brother a bit too well. But what caught Toshio’s attention was the bracelet of white beads around his fellow ninja’s arm.

“Buddhist prayer beads? That’s very modern for a Northerner,” Toshio said, with more than a little skepticism.

Tamaki gave a sheepish, nervous laugh. “I know you’re all about worshipping animal spirits. But there’s nothing wrong about changing it up once in awhile. And speaking of changing,” he sniffed, “you all smell terrible! Take a bath over in the stream while I get dinner ready!”

“Yes, Tamaki-senpai!”

Toshio gave his counterpart a prolonged stare. After a silence that spoke volumes, the two nodded and parted ways.

■■■■

As the three students enjoyed themselves in the cool springs, Toshio was off behind a tree making subtle adjustments to his makeup. His disguise to mask his Kondo heritage was like a second skin to him, yet like any skin in had a tendency to shed.

The difficulties of maintaining the disguise was one of the reasons he was against going on this excursion in the first place. But he was the most qualified as a replacement instructor, and Satsuma thought it was healthy to get him out of Yamato for once. The irony of the Emperor’s request was about to make itself known.

*BhaENNNNNNNNNNG*

A giant horn sounded and didn’t stop. It paralyzed all who heard it for the first time—giving those who had heard a second a head start to flee in fear. That was the power of the henyudo pipes, an instrument that Toshio was well familiar with.

“Kondo savages!” Toshio yelled at the students. “Get back to camp—hurry!”

The three shot out from the water, with hardly time to put on their clothes as they rushed to the campsite. Instead of Tamaki and dinner, they were greeted with war cries and smoke, and dark-skinned men wielding spears and bows.

“Aii-YaYaYa-YAH!”

“WhaLa-LaLa-LA!”

“These barbarians need to work on their ululations,” Toshio criticized before an arrow whizzed by his face. He started barking orders at the students to find cover, though Hatsue hesitated and remained out in the open. Worst still she was in a terrible spot—his spot—with a clear line of fire from a Kondo with their bow outstretched.

Toshio sprinted over and pushed the kunoichi aside. And not a second too soon, because right after he did an arrow flew right through his leg.

The Kondo ninja grunted but didn’t yell. Though grit alone didn’t ease the pain, and try as he might Toshio collapsed from the agony in his right thigh. Putting weight on it only served to sink the arrowhead in deeper.

“Guys! Let’s get out of here!” Ippei yelled. Morio was already on his way out, sprinting at a speed Toshio hadn’t thought him capable of. As for Hatsue, she looked down at her teacher and paused for the longest second of her life.

“Shit! I can’t believe I’m doing this!”

She grabbed hold of Toshio’s arm, kneeled and hefted the shinobi over her shoulders just as she had seen earlier. Gritting her teeth as she ran, she both cursed and prayed that the savages wouldn’t give chase.

Toshio knew there was little risk of that.

■■■■

“Hey, hey—*inhale*—guys, wait up!”

Morio was huffing and puffing, struggling to keep up with Ippei and Hatsue. Though he had gotten a head start on his run his endurance quickly failed him, and he clutched the side of his large-yet-empty stomach in pain.

“You’re tired?! We’re the ones carrying Toshio-sensei!” Hatsue barked. She and Ippei were on either side of their instructor, keeping his moving and his right leg off the ground.

“Um, speaking of which...he doesn’t look too well,” Ippei gulped. “From what I heard about Kondos, back in the war they tipped their arrowheads with poison. I think it was called uh, zakur...zaka...zakara—”

“Zakarashi,” Toshio grunted, gasping for air. “Symptoms include...difficulty breathing, seizures, and loss of...of conscious…” he drifted off into a medically induced slumber.

Morio scratched his head. “Loss of conscious—what?”

“Quit being so stupid! Like, what the hell?!” Hatsue bit her nail clean off and spat it out. “I thought those dirtskin barbarians were all dead! What’s a tribe of them doing out in our training grounds?”

“Well, I mean, we just need to find a place to rest for now. Luckily it’s not—” Ippei paused at the sound of thunder. “Raining…”

■■■■

When the Kondo ninja awoke, he did with a groan and to the sound of torrential rain. Though he was damp and cold he was inside what looked to be a cave. A dark one, hopefully uninhabited by anything other than shinobi.

“He doesn’t look right. His skin is turning darker—aren’t sick folk supposed to go pale?”

Toshio brought a finger across his chin and inspected it. A faint white smudge could be seen against his thumb, which meant his disguise was failing. “This will all be for nothing if they discover what I am.”

“Look! Toshio-sensei is waking up!” said Morio in a loud yell.

“Urusai! Shut up, fatso. Do you want to wake whatever else is in this cave, too?!” Hatsue scolded him as Ippei struggled with two sticks, rubbing them together frantically. When they finally caught fire, he cheered.

“Yes! It worked!” Ippei blew the fire and fed it a handful of leaves to help it grow. “Oh, but it’s a shame we didn’t pick up more tinder. Won’t find any more out there in this downpour.”

The weather was just as bad as Toshio had hoped for and predicted. It wasn’t that he was a fan of monsoons, but rather, this storm was just what he had been waiting for.

“Please don’t move your leg, Toshio-sensei. We haven’t removed the arrowhead yet.”

He had nearly forgotten the injury until he tried to get up. That had been a grave mistake, which sent a sharp pain from his right thigh to every other nerve in his body. As far as the condition of his leg, it was several shades paler than it usually was—though not because of the wound. He had thoroughly applied a skin lightening balm across his entire body.

“Not a barbed arrow, or a particularly sharp one,” Toshio inspected the wound. It hadn’t gone but a couple inches deep and didn’t seem to have pierced bone, which would make it blissfully easier to remove. “I’m lucky these Kondos are as uncivilized as they say.”

Morio presented a piece of bark to the head shinobi, proudly displaying the fruit of his labor. Though it was more of a syrup than a fruit, the gesture was just as sweet. “Look here, I tapped some sap off a pine tree! Think my fingers will be sticky for weeks, though.”

“Don’t seal it until like, after we disinfect it. We’ve got to apply the shiso first. Toshio-sensei has a bad fever...not to mention he’s gasping for breath,” Hatsue said with a hint of concern.

Toshio felt something akin to admiration upon seeing the three busy at work on his behalf. The ninja trainees weren’t that much younger than he was, but even so, he felt a parental urge to protect them. Even while he was the one poisoned and on his potential deathbed.

“Morio, Ippei and Hatsue...thank you all. But we can’t stay here long,” Toshio said, pausing to take in a haggard breath. “Kondo savages are known to...sacrifice their captives at every full moon,” he said before drifting back into a deep slumber.

“Oh no! Tamaki-senpai!”

“When’s the next full moon?!”

“Toshio-sensei, please stay with us!”

■■■■

The full moon would arise three days after this one, which greeted the ninjas with a mostly clear sky. The worst of the storm had passed, though Toshio remained feeble and unable to put any weight on his right leg. Holding Morio for support, he hobbled behind the others as they returned to their campsite, looking for clues as to Tamaki’s whereabouts.

“Oh geez guys, they took everything! Our clothes, weapons and tools...this is bad,” Ippei said as he surveyed the site. “Toshio-sensei, we need to report back to headquarters at once!”

“That would be akin to sentencing Tamaki-san to death. The other ninja wouldn’t be able to reach the Kondos in time. His only chance is us. Assuming we can follow their tracks,” Toshio said, clenching his teeth in pain as he staggered to take a seat beneath a tree. 

He closed his eyes and nodded off into sleep once more.

Or rather, he pretended to. He feigned unconsciousness as the three students bemoaned their lost belongings, cursing the Kondos and grumbling for lack of food. They were leaving themselves completely open to an ambush without keeping a watch out—not that Toshio would warn them. They also needed to be suspicious of any belongings they did find, in case they were tampered with.

“Hey guys!” Morio gasped, holding out a skewer. “I found some of the yakitori! Those stupid dirtskins forgot to take them!”

Toshio shut his eyes a little tighter. “You idiots.”

■■■■

“Hey guys,” Morio groaned, “I think I’m gonna hurl! Bargh—arck!”

The ninja trainees where in various stages of sick, with stops for diarrhea becoming more and more frequent. Progress was slow, but they were moving in the direction of the barbarians who had taken their senpai. Toshio was impressed they were able to follow their trail after such heavy rainfall.

“Ew! Barf somewhere else, fatso!” Hatsue yelled, before directing her anger at Ippei. “So are we lost or what? If you’ve got us going in circles I swear…”

“Geez um, well the prayer beads took us in this direction. Thank the spirits Tamaki had the cunning to drop them without his captors noticing!”

Toshio broke out into a cough. “Tamaki...I’ll have words with you later.”

Ippei’s eyes went wide at the sign of consciousness from his teacher. It had been the first in nearly a day. “Toshio-sensei! You’re up, what a relief! We’ve been meaning to ask you how—”

Toshio yawned, shut his eyes and fell back to sleep.

■■■■

There was only one day left before the full moon and the ceremony that would brutally end Tamaki’s life. The young ninjas were tired, hungry and damp. A combination of the humidity and their loose bowels made dehydration a lethal concern.

Patrols of Kondo barbarians roamed the area, their howling making their presence obvious yet also making sleeping impossible. Not that many could sleep in fear of an arrow or a spear point waking you.

Toshio was an exception and had to hold back a yawn. He had been getting plenty of sleep during this ordeal, though too much rest had the odd effect of making one more tired. It didn’t help that he had sores all across his back for when his students placed him over rocky ground.

It was an inconvenience, but nothing he would penalize them for. “Have you found their location, Ippei?”

“Toshio-sensei! We’re close,” the young ninja replied in an eager whisper. “There’s a stream ahead. They’ll probably stay there for the ceremony tomorrow.”

“How’s my camoflauge, Toshio-sensei?” Hatsue asked. Toshio turned and didn’t see the kunoichi, but a bush. She had coated her silk garbs in dirt—either intentionally or otherwise—making her far more difficult to spot.

“Much better than before. It should get you close without suspicion. Though the bush is never the ideal hiding spot among ninja.”

“What do you mean? What’s wrong with it?”

Toshio smirked. “Men have a tendency to urinate in them.”

Hatsue shrieked as much as a whisper allowed, shedding her disguise as quickly as she could. The boys had a laugh and even Toshio joined in with a chuckle. He was glad he could lighten their spirits. “Perhaps too glad. Attachments only breed mistakes.”

Toshio refocused his thoughts. “I am too slow to be of any use in Tamaki’s rescue. If he is to be saved it must be tonight. You’ll have to—”

“We already got a plan, Toshio-sensei! Nothin’ to worry about!” Morio returned, his arms holding a cloth with probably a hundred or more burs stuck atop it. Burs were small and pointy seed carriers. An effective defense against herbivores, they were also affectionately referred to as ‘hitchhikers’ by their tendency to stick themselves into your clothes during a hike.

“Turns out nature makes its own caltrops,” Morio boasted. “We’ll teach those barefoot natives a lesson they won’t soon forget!”

Toshio hid a grin by placing his hand against his mouth. “Their upperclassmen are in for quite the surprise, it seems.”

■■■■

The operation to rescue Tamaki wasn’t all that exciting, and ended not long after it began. The three students—Hatsue, Ippei and Morio—approached the camp and signalled to each other using bird calls, until Ippei made a ruckus and started running off on his own.

The ‘Kondo savages’ took the bait, up until they wedged their feet over a field of spiky burs, causing them to curse, speak Hyugan, and break character. When Ippei recognized one of the voices as his older brother the deception had well and truly ended.

Toshio staggered towards the camp, towards an apologetic Tamaki surrounded by three very angry shinobi.

“What do you mean, it was all a test?!”

“So they were never any savages at all?!”

“I haven’t slept and ate in days because of this!”

Tamaki cleared his throat. “Ah-ahem, just consider this a rite of passage. The senior ninjas love giving trainees a tough time. Partying and dressing up as savages helps let off some steam. Well, in most cases anyway. You should’ve seen the looks on their faces when they tried it on Toshio-san.”

The Northerner nodded in his direction. “You had them tied up for days before we convinced you to let them go. Several of them pissed themselves before rescue came, if I recall.”

“It would seem that sticking their feet with burs would’ve been far more efficient,” Toshio sighed, before addressing the three students who were clearly frustrated. “Hatsue, Morio and Ippei. You were able to put my teachings into practice as well as implement your own methods. Ingenuity and resolve are among the two most important aspects of a ninja.”

“Though your performance was far from perfect...you have passed your field examination. Congratulations.”

After the initial shock subsided, the three hugged and cheered. All was well, yet before the victory party began, Morio had one question remaining. “You weren’t actually poisoned, right Toshio-sensei? I mean...what if we didn’t come up with a cure?”

“I may have died,” Toshio said flatly and without expression. He then patted a hand against his left upper hip, where a hidden fold in his kimono contained an antidote for the very poison he had spent the past few days suffering from.

“Satsu-kun...when I die it will be by your side. I swore as much to Fuji-sama. His teachings live on through me,” Toshio thought to himself, as his gaze drifted over to the three ninjas currently laughing and stuffing themselves with treats. It was an indulgence they had earned, and the sight of their unrestrained joy made even the coldhearted shinobi smile.

“Is it selfish, I wonder, to hope a part of me will live on through these three?”