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Display a printable version The Birth of a Hunter
Across the empty street was a two-story house. The driveway led to a single car garage with a closed door and no windows. One of the windows of the house had a light shining behind it, but the blinds were closed. The yard in front of the house was empty, with short-cropped grass that spoke of careful maintenance. Gabriel tightened his left hand around the saya he was carrying. The wood creaked in response. He reached over with his right hand and stroked the handle of the blade, touching it with only the barest caress. He closed his eyes, and images from his memory flooded his mind. *** "I want you to have this," Craig Moriyama said as he placed a sword bag in front of Gabriel. Gabriel reached out and gingerly lifted the blade. He untied the drawstring and reached in to remove the weapon. He pulled it out and dropped the bag to the dojo floor. The saya that housed the blade was hand carved, completely smooth, and painted a matte black. It was so reflective that Gabriel could see individual lights on the surface. The handle of the blade was long – large enough to easily accommodate a two-handed grip. It was wrapped in thin black leather, with multiple layers in the center to give the handle a slight bulge. The tsuba had two cresting waves on opposite sides. Gabriel shifted his hands so that his left was just beneath the tsuba and his right gripped the handle. He pressed his thumb against the tsuba and pushed, freeing the blade from a comfortably snug grip. He gingerly took the weapon out and looked at the blade itself. Before he had a chance to examine it, he knew it was an old blade and not a modern replica. It felt different in his hands. It was light and smooth, and for a lack of a better word – hungry. The blade itself was beautiful with a strong hamon, a side effect of the differential temper process. It had a small amount of rust pitting near the tip, but otherwise it was perfect. It took almost a full minute before he was able to raise his gaze from the metal and look at his sensei. "Sensei, I can't accept this. It's an old blade." When Gabriel spoke, his voice was barely more than a whisper. "Gabe, you've earned it. You're by far my best student and have been more dedicated to this dojo than anyone." He smiled warmly. "And I'm proud of you for making the time while still keeping up with your classes." "It's too much. I can't afford to pay you back for this." Craig reached out and placed his hand on his student's shoulder. "You just worry about your training and your education. If you feel uncomfortable, at least promise me you'll use it while you're here. The old ones have a unique spirit, and I want you to become familiar with it. They don't make blades like this anymore." "Thank you, sensei." Gabriel sheathed his new sword and bowed his head. Craig smiled and changed the subject. "Are you coming over for dinner tonight? Jeanette is making fajitas. There'll be plenty to share." "Thanks, but I can't. I have too much homework that needs to be done." "Fair enough. Will you be at practice tomorrow?" "Of course. I'll be here right after class." *** The memory made Garbiel's hands tighten around his sword. It still had the same black shine from the day his sensei gave it to him. Now, it reflected the light of the moon on this cold, clear evening. Gabriel took a deep breath to calm himself. He needed to be ready when the moment came. As if in response to his thoughts, the garage door across from him rattled to life as it slid up. Gabriel ducked down behind the hedge, hiding from view. He stared at the grass in front of his knee, relying on his hearing rather than sight. He heard a car engine start up with a low roar. Gabriel waited as the garage door rattled to a close and the sound of the car faded to silence. Gabriel slowly stood up from his kneeling position. The street was once again empty. All the lights in the house across the way were now off. Gabriel looked both directions on the small residential road. Some of the other houses in the suburban development had lights on, but no one was outside. Gabriel reached inside his jacket and adjusted his handgun, making sure it wouldn't come out of his waistband. He sprinted to the opening in the hedge, crossed the street, and entered his quarry's yard. He ran around the side of the garage. A small garden stretched along the side of the building, about one and a half feet wide. It would still be a few months before any sprouts began to show. Two windows showed nothing but darkness. Gabriel stopped at the first one and pressed his palm flat against the glass. He pushed against it and tried to lift, but it was locked. He tried the same with the second window and received the same result. Moving quickly, he made his way to the back of the house. The back yard was as meticulously cared for as the front. A five foot tall wooden fence marked the border of the property, but the sides were open to the neighbors' yards. Touching the back of the house was a rock garden with a small waterfall that trickled over three levels of stone to collect in a dark pool. A large deck stretched from the back of the house out into the middle of the yard. A patio table with two chairs and two benches sat in the middle, and a grill was pushed against the railing on one side. Gabriel mounted the steps to the deck in a single bound. He tried the sliding glass door, but it was locked too. The blinds covered one half of the doorway. The other half showed him the room beyond, lit up by the bright moonlight coming over his shoulder. He could make out the shadowy shapes of a breakfast bar and several stools. There was a dark lump that suggested a couch. Beyond that, it was simply too dark or too far to see. Gabriel scanned the back of the house, taking several steps back until he felt the deck railing behind him. He noticed that one of the windows was open a crack. Gabriel headed over to it and drew his sword. After a quick glance to make sure no one was looking, he slashed the screen, keeping it a perfect distance so it didn't touch the glass. He executed two more quick cuts and a section of the screen floated to the ground at his feet. He quickly tucked his blade away and opened the window fully. He leaned his sword against the wall so that he could grab it after climbing through. Grabbing the sill, he gave a grunt and pushed himself up until he could lean forward and put his hips on the edge. It was less than graceful, but he swung his legs into the room and entered the house. He reached out and snagged his weapon before shutting the window behind him. The floor was hard and smooth. The room appeared to be an office. There were a few bookshelves against the wall between the two windows. A desk sat on his left, littered with papers in some semblance of piles. A single leather chair sat behind the desk, pushed back slightly. An open door led out of the room. The room was heavy with the scent of wood polish. Next to the door, a picture hung on the wall. Gabriel went up to it and squinted to see better in the dim light. He saw his quarry standing there, with a smile on his face and holding an antique blade. He remembered when the man came to his dojo. *** Gabriel was leaving the dojo with some of his fellow students after a particularly hard workout. They had changed, but sweat still shined on their faces. Gabriel talked over his shoulder while he put on his shoes. "Not tonight, guys." One of the other young men insisted. "Aw, come on. It'll be fun. We're going to Grendel's." Gabriel laughed as he made his way to the door. "Grendel's? Looking for a fight?" "Hey, sometimes you're just in the mood for it." "Yeah, but not tonight. I've got a test tomorrow. Ask me on Saturday." "You're going to miss out. We're bringing Stephen. It's his first time." Gabriel started to respond, a smile still plastered on his face. He swung the door open quickly, but it stopped as he slammed into something with a tearing sound. Gabriel gasped and turned to see what happened. A large, broad-shouldered man stood in the doorway. He must have been just short of six and a half feet tall. He was dressed in a suit and kept his short dark hair slicked back. The sharp edge of the lock plate tore through the suit and stopped when it hit his arm. Gabriel reached out instinctively to examine the man's arm. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to. I wasn't looking where I was going." He noticed that the stranger's arm wasn't even scratched before he jerked it back. "I'm fine. If you'll excuse me, I have business with Mister Craig Moriyama." Gabriel apologized again and stepped back into the dojo so that the man could come through. Gabriel stayed behind while the other students filed out and left. He tried to apologize again, but the man brushed him off with a lazy wave. Craig came out of the dressing room and crossed the dojo floor. He bowed in front of the stranger before extending his hand. "I'm Craig Moriyama. How can I help you?" "My name is Paul Erickson, and I'm a collector. I've been led to believe that you have some antique Japanese swords available for purchase." "I'm sorry to say that you're incorrect. I don't know who told you that, but I'm not selling anything." "I could offer you a lot of money – easily three times their appraised value." "I'm sorry, sir," Craig said politely. "Would you be interested in learning about our dojo?" "No. But I would like to talk to you some more. I'm sure we could reach an arrangement." "As I've said before, they're not for sale. Now, if you'll excuse me." Craig Moriyama gave a slight bow and turned to leave, but the newcomer reached out and grabbed his arm. Gabriel balled up a fist and took a step in his instructor's direction. Craig reached out and calmly peeled off the stranger's hand. "I'm going to ask you to leave now, sir. You are being offensive and disruptive." There was a brief pause as the two men stared at each other. "I'll come back, when it will be less of a disturbance." Without another word, the man turned and left. *** Gabriel left the office and entered the hallway. The floor was smooth and shiny when it caught the moonlight. There were pictures on the wall, but Gabriel didn't stop to examine them. Several swords hung on the walls, interspersed between the pictures. A quick glance over his shoulder convinced Gabriel that there must be at least ten blades hanging in this hallway alone. Apparently his prey was honest about being a collector. The house was empty as he passed through it. He didn't know how soon the man would come back, so Gabriel didn't waste time exploring each room. Instead, he made his way to the garage. He passed through a large living room with the sofa he saw earlier. It was separated from the kitchen by a breakfast bar with a granite top. Gabriel idly noticed that every utensil had been tucked away and the counters were polished to a reflective shine. On the far side of the kitchen was a door that should lead to the garage. He reached out and put his hand on the brass handle. It was cold to the touch. Gabriel gently turned it, took a deep breath, and then flung it open in one large movement. But nothing moved. Gabriel stood there, staring at an empty garage. Groping the wall to his right, Gabriel searched for a switch. He flicked it on and the small incandescent light bulb in the ceiling flared to life. Most of the garage held little interest for him. There were wire racks filled with home improvement tools, a lawnmower in the corner, and a street bike hanging from the ceiling by its wheel. A small black stain marred the concrete in the center of the floor. As Gabriel turned to leave, he saw a sword in the corner that made him freeze. The saya was all black with a wire wrapping both at the bottom and at the top. The handle of the blade was so well used that the black leather lost its color and was worn to a light grey in two spots. The tsuba had a butterfly floating amongst cherry blossoms. There was no mistaking it – it was his former sensei's blade. *** The cold wind made Gabriel shiver as he rode through the streets on his bike. He was late on his way to the dojo, but his biochemistry exam had taken longer than expected. He knew that Craig would understand. He always did when it came to schoolwork. Gabriel pedaled harder as he reached the last hill before the dojo. After he crested it, he smiled and coasted down the back side. He pulled into the parking lot with a sharp turn and hit the brakes. The wheels gave a satisfactory skid as he stopped just to the side of the door. Gabriel chained up his bike and turned to enter the door, but had to jump back as it slammed open. The large man in the suit nearly walked over Gabriel in his haste to leave. In his left hand was Sensei Moriyama's blade. A thick, black liquid ran down the back of his hand and pooled in drops at his knuckles before falling to the pavement. It looked like ink. Gabriel turned and called out. "Hey! How'd you convince Sensei to sell?" "We reached an agreement," the man said quickly. He continued walking away without turning around. Shaking his head, Gabriel turned and entered the school. As soon as he saw what awaited him, he dropped his backpack and rushed across the floor, completely neglecting decorum. He ran to his Sensei in the corner. Blood soaked the floor and bamboo behind him. He held his hands in front of his stomach, but blood spilled freely around them. He was conscious, but his eyes were glassy and his breathing weak. Gabriel slid to his knees next to his teacher and tore off his shirt. He pressed it up against the wound and fumbled in his pocket for his cell phone. His free hand shook as he tried to open it and make a call. Craig tried to speak, but Gabriel didn't hear him as he shouted into the phone. "Hello? 911? Please come quick! My sensei's been stabbed!" Gabriel frantically gave them the address and tried to stay on the phone with the operator, asking her what he should do. Craig reached out, grabbed Gabriel's arm, and pulled him closer. The action silenced Gabriel. "Oni," Craig whispered. "Take sword." After those three words, Craig collapsed and closed his eyes, struggling to breathe. Gabriel stayed with him until the ambulance arrived, but Craig passed away before the sirens echoed through the parking lot. *** Gabriel reached out and touched the weapon with just the tip of his fingers. He stood there for a few seconds with his eyes closed. He reached for the blade with both hands, and then stopped. As meticulous as the murderer was, he would notice if his latest acquisition was missing. With a final glance at the blade, he turned around and went back into the kitchen, turning off the light on the way out. Once he stepped back inside, he looked around, trying to put himself in his quarry's position. The refrigerator stuck out just enough that a person could hide behind it and not be seen. Plus, the filtered moonlight would be behind him, masking his features. Gabriel moved to his hiding place and drew his sword, placing both the naked blade and the saya on the counter behind him. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out the handgun. He hesitated, staring at the modern weapon. Eventually, he put it down on the counter as well. Placing both of his hands on the granite top, he hoisted himself up so that he could sit on it. He leaned back with his eyes closed, resting his head against the cabinets, and waited. It seemed like hours before the garage door mechanism rattled to life. It was followed by the roar of a car engine. Gabriel dropped to his feet and pressed himself as tight against the counter as he could manage, hiding behind the fridge. He picked up the handgun and gave his sword a quick glance to make sure he knew where it was. His hands shook slightly as he held the gun, but with a few deep breaths, they grew steady. The car engine turned off, and the garage door opener roared to life once again. Whoever was in the vehicle slammed the door loud enough for it to echo into the kitchen. Gabriel couldn't see the entrance to the garage, but he heard the door open, followed by hard footsteps that echoed as they clacked against the hardwood. Gabriel saw the point of a sword come into view before he saw anything else. It was unsheathed and reflected the white light of the moon. The man walked forward, giving Gabriel a better view of him. He was still sharply dressed in a suit that hugged his muscular frame. He glanced from one side to the other, but did not notice Gabriel. The man spoke. "I know you're here, thief. I can smell you. You picked the wrong house to rob." "Hold it," Gabriel said, taking half a step away from the counter and into plain view. He aimed the gun at the large man with the sword. Paul lifted both of his hands over his head, still holding onto the weapon. "Easy there. You don't want to pull that trigger." "I think I do." "You don't understand what you'd be doing." "I understand more than you know." Gabriel aimed the weapon at Paul's shoulder and squeezed the trigger. The shot nearly deafened Gabriel; the sound alone made him wince. Paul growled, and his shoulder jerked back from the blow. The bullet rattled as it hit the ground. Paul grinned with a feral look in his eye and walked forward slowly. "I told you, you picked the wrong house to rob. That won't stop me." Gabriel tossed the gun behind him, and it clattered across the counter. He picked up his sword in the same motion and snapped it around in front of him into a fighting stance. Paul looked at the sword and stopped his advancement. "I had to be sure," Gabriel said. "You're not human." Paul backed up a few steps, lowering his blade until the tip was pointed at his opponent. Gabriel circled around, getting out of the corner and more towards the center of the room. "Do you really think you can stop me with a sword if the gun didn't work?" "Why don't you fall on your sword and let's find out?" Paul ignored the jibe. "Where did you get that?" "From the sensei you killed." "Which one?" Paul asked, the grin returning to his face. Gabriel answered him with a large shout, bringing his blade in a strong horizontal cut across Paul's midsection. Paul barely managed to get his own weapon in place to defend. Even so, Gabriel took the force from the impact and used it to spin his weapon in the opposite direction, behind his head, and came down at Paul's shoulder. Paul reached up and stopped the strike, but only after it bit into his shoulder about half an inch. With an unearthly howl, he struck out with his right hand, slamming Gabriel hard enough in the chest to make him fall back and slide across the floor. He struck the wall with a thud and scrambled to get to his feet before Paul pursued. "I'll burn the flesh from your bones!" The blows came so quickly that Gabriel had to roll to the side and backup as he parried. The speed was inhuman. He didn't have time to think about what he was doing, and the force of the blows made his arms shake. When Paul came up for a strong overhead strike, Gabriel stepped forward and to the side, but his sword was out of position. He swung his leg around and delivered the most powerful kick he could manage. It felt like he struck a wall and had about as much affect. Paul tried to grab at the leg, but Gabriel snapped it back too quickly. He stabbed with his sword, managing to pierce Paul's arm. He wrenched it free and dove across the granite countertop, rolling as he landed on the other side. He sprang to his feet and turned, just in time to see his opponent slam his sword against the countertop so hard that the weapon shattered. Gabriel tried to shield his face behind his jacket, but some of the shrapnel bit into his arm and cheek. Judging by the screams, Paul suffered the worse of the exchange. As Gabriel lowered his arm, he idly noticed that the blood on his sword was black in the moonlight, not red. "Enough!" Paul shouted. He stood up and pounded his chest. It seemed like he grew another foot both in height and in breadth. His skin changed color – it was impossible to say what color it was, but it had darkened beyond human tones. His hair grew longer and kept its oily sheen. Two jet black horns grew from his forehead, giving him the facial appearance of a devil. Gabriel took a deep breath and dropped lower into his fighting stance, tightening his hands around the weapon. He dropped the tip of it so that it was even with his knees. With a roar, the oni gripped the edge of the countertop with his clawed hands. The nails dug in as he tore it up with the sound of cracking wood. Holding it in both hands, he slammed his forehead against it. The middle burst into dust and small pieces so that he was left holding two large sections of granite. He hurled one directly at Gabriel. Gabriel dove to the side as the stone countertop tore into the wooden floor where he had been just a moment before. He didn't need to look to know that if he froze, he would be flattened. Gabriel curled his legs underneath him and pushed back, jumping in the direction that he came from. There was a crash as the floor in front of him burst into splinters. The force of the blow stunned him. He was dimly aware of a heavy pounding sound growing louder to his left. Gabriel tried to stand up and clear his vision, but the creature grabbed him by the scruff of his jacket and hurled him across the ruined counter. Gabriel struck the metal door of the fridge and his sword clattered to the floor. The oni moved with a speed that defied reason. Gabriel was still coughing and barely managed to open his eyes when the demon picked him up by his throat. Gabriel saw the oni bring his fist back to deliver a lethal blow. He glanced down and saw a piece of the shattered Japanese sword. He grabbed it in his fingers and stabbed the creature's arm. He held it tightly as it pierced the skin. The black blood of the demon mixed with the red blood of the human as Gabriel slid it along, trying to open a wide gash and biting into his own hand in the process. The cursed creature let him go with a scream. Gabriel dropped to the ground and rolled away, picking up his sword as he tumbled past it. He stood up, holding the weapon in both hands. Blood streamed down the handle, making it slick and hard to hold onto. He swung a large sweeping cut that sliced into the oni's leg. In response, the creature tried to claw at Gabriel's face. He dropped back, to avoid the blow, doing a back bend that nearly dropped him to the ground. He snapped back up and stabbed with his sword, sinking it deep into the oni's chest. It swiped at Gabriel, catching him in the shoulder, tearing through the cloth and opening deep gashes. Gabriel lost his grip on his sword. He pressed his back against the wall, trying to get as far away from the oni as possible. Rather than reach out and try to grab the sword, he kicked and caught the weapon on the end of the tsuka. Pressing himself against the wall, he thrust forward with his leg, driving it in. There was a tearing sound as the sword ripped out the back of the creature. It clawed at Gabriel's leg, raking it along the entire length. Gabriel clenched his jaw and pushed harder, trying to force the creature away. The blade slid until the tsuba struck the oni's chest. He took a few shuddering steps back and then fell to the side. Gabriel slid down the wall and collapsed against the floor, staring at his opponent. The demon twitched, and tried to crawl towards Gabriel, but it was a futile effort. He stopped, and his breathing slowed until it ended completely. Gabriel closed his eyes, but the smell of burning hair brought him back to awareness. The creature in front of him turned to ash even though there was no fire. The sword, no longer held up by the creature's body, clattered against the ground. Gabriel gave himself the better part of a minute to relax. He pressed his palms against the wall behind him and, wincing with pain, used it to walk his way up to a standing position. Halfway up, his bloody hand slipped and he almost crashed to the floor. But he managed to get his feet underneath him and continued his ascent. He walked to the door that led to the garage slowly, dragging his wounded leg behind him. He leaned against the wall in front of the door and weakly pushed it open. He had to hop on one leg to get down the two steps to the garage floor, an endeavor that made him blanch. His sensei's blade sat in the corner, untouched. Gabriel fell against the wall, using it to support himself. He reached out, picked up the blade, and cradled it gently in his hands. He gave it a slight bow with his head as he slid to the floor of the garage, the weapon cradled in his lap. *** Gabriel stood at the door, waiting for Jeanette to answer. His face had small scabs from his encounter with the oni. He wore a turtleneck to hide the red marks on his neck from oversized fingers. Baggy sweatpants kept the fabric from rubbing against his bandages. In his left hand, he held Craig's sword. Jeanette answered the door, dressed all in black. When she saw who it was, she opened the door wider and a gentle smile appeared on her face. "Gabe, it's so good to see you. Why don't you come in?" "I can't stay," Gabriel said softly. "I need to get back to class." "I understand. Was there something I can help you with?" "I wanted to give you this," Gabriel said, holding out the blade to Jeanette. "I think Craig would have wanted you to have it." "How'd you get it back?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. "The buyer and I reached an agreement." "Gabe, you didn't," she left the question unasked. He looked away and dropped his gaze to the side. Jeanette reached out and touched his hand that held the sword. She pushed it gently until it touched Gabriel's chest. "Craig would rather you have it. He'd want it put to good use." She reached out and gave him a hug. "Now get back to class. Craig and I are both proud of you." They said their goodbyes, and Gabriel went to his bike. He opened the sword bag. It contained several swords from the oni's house. A few bundles of bills rested on top of the weapons – the remains of his savings account and scholarship money to cover his tuition. A portion of the money had been used to purchase a plane ticket to Tokyo. He tucked his former sensei's blade into the bag with a reverent nod. With an audible grunt, he got on his bike. He took one last look at the house behind him, and then rode down the street. END
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| Last updated on 7/15/2008 10:29:04 AM by Jennifer Brozek |
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A breeze through the air made Gabriel's skin prickle. A shiver spread from the base of his head down his spine. He took his right hand and rubbed it vigorously against his left arm. The jacket absorbed most of the friction, but it still warmed him slightly. The hedge that he crouched behind provided little shelter from the wind. He opened his eyes and rose up on his knees to peer over the hedge.
Dylan Birtolo is the author of one novel, The Shadow Chaser. He was born and raised on the East Coast and considers himself a native New Englander. Currently he lives in the Pacific Northwest, enjoying the beautiful countryside and getting a full appreciation for the term "sun break". He also tries to bring fantasy to reality by acting with a stage combat troupe know as the Seattle Knights. Determined to try everything – a small sample of his resume includes martial arts instructor, veterinary technician at an emergency hospital, and software engineer – his only constant has been telling stories. The Birth of a Hunter is his first published short story.