'“Someone’s coming,” Taji yells.
I reach Taji first. Not because I’m the fastest. I’m good at many things but running isn’t one of them. It’s hard to sprint with just one leg. I get there fast because I’m practising sword thrusts nearby, only a hop away.
Peering into the valley, I see a short stocky figure making his way up the mountain path.
“Who is it?” Kyoko flops onto the grass.
Mikko, Nezume and Yoshi arrive, pushing and shoving each other out of the way. Like an upended bowl of rice noodles, they land in a tangled mess beside me.
I’ve got really good eyes because in my heart I am the White Crane, able to spot a beetle from the air. My sight takes wing, soaring deep into the valley. But I don’t know how Taji does it. How can a blind kid see at all? When I asked him he laughed at me. “You have to listen, Niya. You are much too noisy to see with your ears.”
It’s true. I like to laugh and jump and yell. Aeeeyagh!. Aeeeyagh! When I am practising, the White Crane screeches out across the ryu. Even when I’m sleeping, Mikko has to poke me in the ribs because I snore louder than a pond full of frogs.
“It’s Master Onaku,” I announce.
“Why is the swordsmith coming?” Yoshi voices the question we all want to ask.
Master Onaku is Sensei Ki-Yaga’s oldest friend and it’s always a special occasion when he visits. We spend days preparing. Sensei says a samurai kid must be able to wield his sword on the battlefield and a sharp knife in the kitchen. But we don’t fall for that. For once it’s not about training. It’s really about Onaku’s big round stomach. The Sword Master loves to eat.
Copyright © 2007 Sandy Fussell
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