Day 32

  Location: The Asphalt Rivers of Shinjuku (Outside Fuma Tower)

  Friction is a myth.

  I realized this fundamental truth as the soles of my cheap leather shoes lost all contact with the concept of "grip."

  "HOLD FAST, BEAST!" I roared, my voice whipped away by the wind of our velocity. "THIS IS A SLOW ZONE!"

  I was attached to the monster known as Cerberus by a heavy iron chain.

  The beast, a black-furred siege engine of muscle and malice, did not walk. He charged.

  He leaned into his tactical harness, digging his claws into the pavement, generating enough torque to pull a small ox cart—or in this case, a fully grown man in a polyester suit.

  I had become a sleigh upon the ice.

  My shoes, stiff and unyielding, skimmed over the concrete surface. I leaned back at a forty-five-degree angle, using my body weight as a counter-balance, gripping the leash with both hands like the reins of a runaway warhorse.

  "Make way!" I bellowed to a group of terrified salarymen huddled near a vending machine. "The Cavalry approaches! The Black Wolf claims the lane!"

  They scattered like leaves before a storm.

  "Is he... is he skiing on the sidewalk?" one whispered.

  "Look at his face," another gasped. "He looks like he's leading a charge into hell."

  Indeed, I was.

  This was not a patrol. This was a forced march.

  The Demon Lord Kotaro had commanded me to "walk" the beast. He had neglected to mention that the beast walked with the speed of a 'Gale' (Hayate).

  "Slow down, you four-legged typhoon!" I gritted my teeth, planting my heels into a crack in the sidewalk to brake.

  The chain went taut. My shoulder sockets groaned in protest. The polyester of my suit stretched to its limit, threatening to explode at the seams.

  Cerberus stopped.

  He did not pant. He simply turned his massive, blocky head and looked at me.

  His eyes burned with a mixture of amusement and contempt.

  Is that all, little man? his gaze seemed to say. My grandmother pulled harder than that.

  "Do not mock me," I warned him, adjusting my tie, which had flown over my shoulder during the charge. "I am merely conserving my stamina for the return journey."

  The Aerial Ambush

  We entered the "Central Park of Shinjuku."

  It was a patch of green amidst the grey, a sanctuary for the weary and the homeless.

  But for a Ninja, there is no sanctuary. Only new battlefields.

  Suddenly, the air filled with the sound of beating wings.

  A squadron of grey invaders descended from the trees, landing in a clustered formation on the path ahead.

  Pigeons. The Rats of the Sky.

  Cerberus stiffened. The hair on his back stood up like the bristles of a brush.

  A low growl started in his chest, vibrating through the leash and into my hands.

  "Enemy sighted," I whispered, dropping into a low stance. "Aerial spies. Likely sent by the Koga Clan to monitor our movements."

  BARK!

  The sound was like a thunderclap trapped in a canyon.

  Cerberus lunged, snapping his jaws at the lead bird.

  The pigeons exploded upward in a panic of feathers and cooing.

  "Excellent!" I praised, holding the leash firm. "Disrupt their communications! Do not let them report back to base! Intimidate the Grey Squadron!"

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  An elderly woman feeding the birds dropped her bag of bread crusts. She looked at me—a man in a cheap suit screaming at birds while holding back a demon dog.

  "The youth of today..." she muttered, clutching her purse. "So violent."

  "It is necessary violence, Matron!" I assured her. "These birds are data collectors! Trust no one with wings!"

  She walked away very quickly.

  The Ritual of Earth

  We continued deeper into the park. The pace slowed.

  Cerberus was no longer charging. He was searching.

  He sniffed the grass. He sniffed a tree. He sniffed a discarded bento box with the intensity of a forensic investigator.

  "Seeking the Ley Lines..." I nodded. "Wise beast. You look for the convergence of earth energy."

  Suddenly, he stopped.

  He began to spin.

  Clockwise. Once. Twice. Three times.

  A sacred geometry. He was aligning his chakra with the magnetic poles.

  Then, his back arched. His hind legs bent at a sharp angle. He looked at me, his expression one of deep, profound concentration.

  "The Anchoring," I whispered.

  He was preparing to leave a biological marker. A declaration of war against all other canines in the district.

  "Proceed, Wolf of the Wind," I said solemnly, standing guard and scanning the perimeter for threats. "I shall watch your six while you commune with the soil."

  The deed was done.

  On the pristine pavement of the park path, a massive, steaming pile of dark matter remained.

  It radiated heat. It possessed a terrifying aura.

  Cerberus kicked his back legs—scritch, scritch—attempting to bury the evidence (or perhaps fling it at his enemies) before trotting away, satisfied.

  I checked the leash. Secure.

  Then I looked at the pile.

  I remembered the laws of this era. Aoi-dono had been strict.

  "If you don't pick it up, you're a criminal. And worse, you're rude."

  I sighed. The life of a retainer is filled with glamorous tasks.

  I reached into my pocket and retrieved the artifact Kotaro had provided.

  A small roll of pink plastic bags. They smelled... of artificial roses.

  "The Bag of Containment," I murmured. "A vessel designed to seal the darkness."

  I tore one off. I inverted it over my hand like a glove.

  I approached the Offering.

  The Battle for the Offering

  Grrrrrrr...

  I froze.

  Cerberus had turned around. He was staring at my hand. He was staring at the pile.

  His lip curled, revealing a white fang.

  I understood immediately.

  "You defend your tribute?" I asked, my voice low.

  "You believe I seek to steal your glory? To claim this biological weapon for myself?"

  Grrr-ARF!

  He snapped at the air near my hand.

  "Foolish beast!" I hissed, pulling my hand back. "I do not want this! But the Shogunate of Shinjuku demands sanitation! If I leave this here, the Dungeon Keepers (Police) will arrest us both!"

  The dog did not care for politics. He only knew that he had made a thing, and now the man in the suit was trying to take the thing.

  It was a standoff.

  Cerberus stood over the pile, guarding it like a dragon guards a hoard of gold.

  I stood opposite him, my pink-gloved hand hovering like a striking cobra.

  "Very well," I said, narrowing my eyes. "If you wish to dance, we shall dance."

  I feinted left.

  Cerberus’s head snapped left.

  I retracted instantly.

  "Your reflexes are good," I noted. "But you are predictable."

  I circled to the right. He pivoted, keeping his body between me and the Offering.

  People were watching. A couple on a bench had stopped eating their sandwiches.

  "Why is that businessman fighting a dog over a poop?" the man asked.

  "Don't make eye contact," the woman whispered.

  I ignored the civilians. The window of opportunity was closing. The Offering was cooling.

  I needed a distraction.

  I reached into my pocket with my free hand and pulled out... the plastic spoon.

  I tossed it high into the air.

  "FETCH, DEMON!"

  For a split second, the instinct of the retriever overrode the instinct of the guardian.

  Cerberus’s eyes flicked upward to the white spinning object.

  NOW!

  I engaged God-Speed Mode.

  I plunged my pink-gloved hand downward.

  I grabbed the mass.

  The sensation... it was indescribable.

  Through the thin, rose-scented plastic, I felt the heat. It was the warmth of a living thing. Soft. Yielding. Horrifying.

  It felt like holding the beating heart of a swamp monster.

  "Impure!" I screamed internally.

  With a fluid motion, I inverted the bag, sealing the horror inside.

  I tied the knot with a single hand—the "Seal of the Void."

  Cerberus looked down. The Offering was gone.

  He looked at the bag in my hand.

  He let out a huff—a sound of resignation.

  Fine. Take it. Weirdo.

  The Return

  I walked back toward the tower, holding the pink bag aloft like a lantern in the darkness.

  It swung gently with my stride, radiating a warmth that penetrated the cool morning air.

  "I have contained the darkness," I announced to the empty street.

  Cerberus trotted beside me. He was no longer pulling.

  He looked up at me occasionally, his tongue lolling out.

  There was a new understanding between us. We had battled. We had faced the aerial spies. We had navigated the ritual of the earth.

  "You are a formidable warrior, Cerberus," I said, looking down at him.

  "Next time, we shall hunt the squirrels. They, too, are spies."

  The dog barked once. An agreement.

  My phone buzzed.

  [ Kotaro: Don't forget my Latte. Extra foam. ]

  I looked at the poop bag in my left hand.

  I looked at the coffee shop ahead.

  "One hand for the waste of the beast," I muttered. "One hand for the drink of the master."

  "A delicate balance. But I am Hattori Masanari. I shall not mix them up."

  Days Remaining: 68

  Masanari’s Cultural Notes

  ? The Dragoon (Cavalryman): A mounted infantryman.

  ? In the absence of a horse, a Ninja must improvise. Being dragged by a 50kg dog creates a similar tactical advantage (speed), though stopping is problematic.

  ? The Offering (The Poop):

  ? In nature, this marks territory.

  ? In Tokyo, it is a crime scene. The speed at which one must clean it up is a test of civic duty. The "Rose Scent" of the bag does nothing to mask the heat.

  ? The Grey Squadron (Pigeons):

  ? They gather in parks, cooing secrets.

  ? They do not fear humans. This lack of fear is suspicious. Clearly, they are armored drones.

  Next Episode Preview

  Episode 33: The Elixir of Wakefulness and the Cup of Names

  Masanari: "I enter the House of the Green Mermaid (Starbucks)! The menu is a cipher! What is a 'Venti'? Is it a wind spell?!"

  Barista: "Can I get a name for the cup?"

  Masanari: "I cannot give you my true name! It is a secret of the clan! Write... 'Shadow'!"

  Barista: "Okay... 'Shaggy'?"

  Masanari: "NO! I AM THE NIGHT!"

  Next Time: Masanari accidentally orders a Frappuccino and suffers a brain freeze!

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