“What I can’t believe is how much attention you’ve given them,” Hosato commented. “I somehow never pictured you as the sort who got wound up over ancient history.”
Sasha shrugged. “Normally I don’t,” she admitted. “But the Ninjas fascinate me… professionally. I mean, security is my main field of expertise, but from what I’ve researched about the Ninjas, I’m not sure I could stop one.”
“Oh, come now,” Hosato chided. “You just finished saying they were human. Surely today’s security—”
Sasha interrupted him with a wave of her hand. “You didn’t let me finish. Let me give you an idea of how the Ninjas operate. The invisibility thing—they had a lot of fairly inventive gadgets that let them move freely where anyone else would be stopped cold, but that wasn’t their main weapon. Their real strength was in their secrecy.”
“They can’t have been very secretive if you’ve found out so much about them,” Hosato interrupted.
“What I’ve found out is probably just the tip of the iceberg,” she retorted. “The Ninjas were very close, organized in clans or families. All their secrets were passed on from generation to generation within the family. Can you read between the lines what that means. The children were raised into the system, trained from birth. Can you imagine someone trained his entire life to be a spy and assassin?”
Hosato didn’t have to imagine it. What was more, the memories were making him uncomfortable, particularly considering the current situation.
“But they’re still just human,” he argued. “One thing I’ve learned as a duelist is that a sword or a bullet kills a highly trained opponent just as dead as an untrained opponent.”
“If you know who your opponent is. Look, the average thug we have to deal with today is fairly easy to unmask. His idea of a cover story is to use a different name and list some phony references. Check his references closely—say, like we did yours—and he’s caught. The Ninjas were required to maintain three, sometimes four completely separate lives. That’s what I meant about the invisibility thing. Someone in town is assassinated, but no one new has been seen entering or leaving. Obviously the assassin was 'invisible,' coming and going without being seen. What actually happened was that the guy who sells you your vegetables every morning is a Ninja, and has been living in the town for five years. He’s not really invisible, just very well camouflaged. If someone like that popped up today, we wouldn’t catch him, no matter how many checks we ran on his background.”
Hosato was now desperate to change the subject.
“It is interesting,” he admitted. “But academic. As I recall, the Ninjas died out a long time ago.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Sasha chided. “There were reports the clans were active into the twentieth century. There’s no real reason why they should have died out. Remember, their strength is their anonymity. The fact we haven’t heard of them lately could mean they’ve died out. It could also mean they’re still around and very successful.”
“If that’s a possibility” — Hosato laughed — “I’m glad it’s your problem and not mine. You make me very happy I chose the line of work I did. Incidentally, I think you’ve proved my point for me. Next to your job, mine as a professional duelist is drab and unexciting.”
Sasha winced. “I did it again, didn’t INo matter what I try, we always end up talking about me and my interests.”
“Don’t apologize,” Hosato insisted. “I get the feeling there aren’t many people here at the complex you can talk to.”
“That’s the truth.” Sasha made a face. “All in all, the people here are a pretty grim crew,”
The robot that had been servicing their table chose this moment to wheel up and present the bill.
“Almost robotlike?” joked Hosato, nodding his head at the intruder.
Sasha produced her employee card and started to feed it into the robot.
Hosato slapped her hand lightly. “Stop that.” He smiled, producing his own card. “Allow me this one concession to romanticism.” He fed the card into the robot, charging the meal to his own account.
“Romanticism?” Sasha leaned back, studying him with a cocked eyebrow. “I suppose you feel that entitles you to carry me off to your room for activities of dubious morality.”
“Certainly not,” Hosato laughed. “In fact, that was the furthest thing from my mind.”
As soon as he said it, he knew he had made a mistake. Something went out of his dinner partner. She seemed to shrink for an instant, and when she moved again, it was with the brisk, efficient motions of the security chief again.
“What I mean,” he hastened to add, “was that I really found your thoughts on Ninjas quite fascinating. So fascinating, in fact—”
“That’s all right, Hayama,” Sasha said, cutting him short. “It’s rather late, anyway.” She rose but motioned for him to remain seated. “Go ahead and finish your coffee. I’ll just…”
She stopped suddenly, staring at nothing; then a slow smile crept over her face.
“Since you’re interested, Hayama, you should be the first to know. I think I’ve figured out a way to catch a Ninja.”
“Oh, really. What?” Now she was smiling directly at him. “I’ll tell you, once I find out if it works or not.” A wave of her hand and she was gone, leaving Hosato feeling more than vaguely uneasy.
“Make that feint believable. If you don’t draw the parry, you’ll parry yourself by attacking into a closed line when you disengage.”
James nodded his acknowledgment without looking at Hosato, settled into his en garde position once more and again launched his attack against Suzi. Extending his sword to threaten the manikin’s chest, he hesitated a split second, then dipped his point and circled it left to evade the anticipated parry, and lunged.
The sword in Suzi’s single arm remained rigidly in place, refusing to react to the feint. As such, James’s final lunge met an unyielding wall of steel as the blades met, and his point slid harmlessly past the target.
Hosato rolled his eyes in exasperation but regained his composure before he stepped forward to address his student.
“First off, you’re too tense. Relax for a minute and loosen up your sword arm. If it’s tense, your movements are jerky. That slows you up and telegraphs to your opponent what you’re trying to do. Minus two points, and you lose. Loosen that arm.”
James obediently stepped back and dropped his sword arm to his side, flexing and shaking it in an effort to reestablish its suppleness. Hosato watched for a few moments before nodding his satisfaction and continuing.
“Now, then,” he said firmly. “From the top. A disengage attack the old one-two. What are we trying to do?”
“Hit the opponent,” James replied.
“Hit the opponent,” Hosato mimicked. “That’s what you’re trying to do with any fencing move.”
James gave a small sigh of exasperation. “The disengage attack is intended to negate your opponent’s defensive speed,” he recited. “As the defender has to move his weapon only four inches to parry an attack, and an attacker has to move his point four feet to score a hit, the defender is able to easily stop a straight lunge. Therefore, to successfully complete an attack, we first feint, drawing the opponent’s parry, then evade or deceive the parry and launch the actual attack.”
“Correct,” commented Hosato, picking up his own sword. “Now, watch.”
He came en garde smoothly, facing the boy, hesitated a moment, then extended the point without twitching any other part of his body.
James watched with rapt interest.
Hosato withdrew his arm to resume the en garde position once more. “You didn’t react,” he said accusingly.
“React to what?” the boy asked, surprised. “That’s what I’m trying to show you.” Hosato smiled. “Heeii!”