Jason Rohan - The Shield of Kuromori

‘No good,’ the woman said, banging her fist on a twisted beam in frustration.

Kenny picked his way through the wreckage to join her. They were almost at the window but a fallen girder barred their path.

‘Stand back,’ Kenny said, summoning his sword. It materialised into his hand and, with one slice, the beam fell away in two pieces. ‘Let’s go.’

He dismissed the blade once more and helped the woman out through the shattered window frame on to the grassy verge outside, where they gulped in deep lungfuls of fresh, sweet air.

‘Who are you?’ the woman said. ‘How can you . . .? And where is sword?’

Kenny ran a hand through his filthy hair and shrugged. ‘It’s a long story.’

The shriek of sirens announced the arrival of ambulances from the neighbouring Hasegawa Hospital, and groups of white-coated laboratory staff ran from the main building, first-aid kits in hand, to assist bloodied survivors. The woman was swallowed up by a mob of her colleagues, all talking at once.

Kenny slumped on the grass and allowed himself a satisfied smile, but it wasn’t to last.

An explosion ripped through the remains of the top floor, showering onlookers with broken glass. Kenny jumped to his feet and squinted up at the ruined building. A third of it had fallen in and smoke billowed from the top-floor windows. The twisted remains of a metal fire-escape dangled from a wall. And then he heard the screams of people trapped inside.

The building groaned again and swayed slightly, threatening to collapse at any moment.

With no time to waste, Kenny started running.

Kiyomi was trapped; two oni were bearing down on her, while two in front were working in the equatorial room.

Fortunately Kiyomi had instinct and training to fall back on. Her gut said to hide, but the passageway was short with no recesses; her schooling said to take the initiative, to change defence into attack. Her training prevailed.

‘ Kiiii-aiii !’ she screamed, bursting from cover. The red oni froze as Kiyomi flung herself forward, planted her palms on the floor and pushed off from the handspring. She tucked her knees in hard, somersaulted over the oni ’s head and landed with feline grace on the horizontal mounting of the telescope.

The blue oni reacted immediately. With a roar, he levelled the steel pole in his hand, then swung it straight at Kiyomi to squish her like a bug.

‘NO!’ barked one of the newcomers. Something flashed in his hand, thunder echoed through the dome and Blue’s head exploded like a water balloon. Kiyomi froze, one hand tucked into the gap between the two tubes.

The blue oni ’s twitching body crumbled to dust and the huge gun barrel swung in her direction. The hand holding it glinted in the dim light.

‘I thought I made myself perfectly clear,’ the newcomer said to Red, whose complexion was draining to a weak pink. ‘There is to be no damage to the telescope. Speaking of which . . .’ CLICK-CLICK. His thumb ratcheted back the hammer on the heavy pistol and he took aim at Kiyomi’s chest. ‘Move. Now.’

Kiyomi didn’t wait for a second request. She sprang up, arms outstretched, caught hold of the partly assembled metal frame above her head and vaulted on to the circular walkway, which doubled as a viewing gallery where the wall ended and the dome began.

‘Stay up there, out of my way, and I won’t kill you,’ warned the oni with the gun. ‘Agreed?’

‘Agreed,’ Kiyomi said. She wasn’t sure, given the distance, but the new oni seemed to be wearing a silver mask.

The oni in the passageway behind him, a lavender-hued brute with one arm longer than the other, set down the oil drum he was carrying and picked up the fallen scaffolding pole. Handing it to Red, he said, ‘What are you waiting for? Shogatsu ? Hurry it up.’

Crouched down on the walkway and watching the oni below, Kiyomi reached for her phone. She had two thoughts: What the heck are those oni doing? and Where’s Kenny when I need him?

Orange flickers illuminated the top floor of the gutted building. The metal stairs and platforms of the fire-escape hung like modern art sculptures on the wall. Kenny listened intently, trying to filter out the incessant shrill of the fire alarms and approaching sirens.

THUMP-THUMP-THUMP! It was unmistakable: someone was pounding on the fire-escape door, trying to break it loose from its warped frame. Kenny scoured his surroundings. People were trapped on what remained of the top floor and, with time running out, he had to help them down – but how?

KRAKK! Kenny looked up. The sound had come from one of the many tall trees around him. This one was sagging inward, close to a blazing window. Its leaves had shrivelled in the heat and a heavy branch had split as the moisture inside had turned to steam and expanded. Staring up at the tree, Kenny had an idea.

He stood directly beneath the fire-escape door – high above on the third floor – and marched away from the building, counting the distance in paces. Satisfied, he stopped and selected a large pine tree, about twenty metres tall and half a metre wide.

‘Here goes,’ he said to himself and, hefting the sword, he cut a deep notch into the trunk with two diagonal swipes, one down and one up. A wedge of trunk fell out. Kenny waited. Nothing happened. He cut again, making the cleft deeper. Still nothing.

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake!’ He stepped back from the tree, took a running jump and drop-kicked the trunk as high as he could. The pine shuddered and, with a series of cracks as loud as gunshots, it began to topple.

‘Yes, yes!’ Kenny cheered, watching it swing towards the building. Then ‘No, no!’ as it begin to twist away.

Fists clenched and eyes screwed shut, Kenny concentrated his will. Two blasts of wind caught the upper branches on each side, holding the treetop for a moment. It rolled and then began to fall again. The tip smashed in the fire-escape door and the long straight trunk settled at a 45-degree angle.

Kenny punched the air and began clambering up the trunk. He wove his way round the first few branches, then called Kusanagi and lopped away the thicker foliage. The trunk tapered at the top, where it rested on the sill. ‘Hello in there!’ Kenny called through the battered door. ‘You’ve got to leave now.’

A bespectacled Japanese man gaped at him from the doorway, eyes as wide and bulgy as a goldfish. ‘ Shinji rarenai ,’ he said.

‘Come on!’ Kenny extended his arm. ‘Let’s go.’

The man shook his head and backed away. A younger man, wearing a fire marshal’s reflective vest, pushed past him. ‘The tree,’ he said. ‘It’s not safe.’

‘Of course it is. Look.’ Kenny jumped on the trunk. It creaked and shook. His foot slipped and he landed with a thump on his rear, dislodging a bird’s nest which shattered on the ground, far below. ‘OK, tell you what. I’ll make it easier.’ Kenny took Kusanagi and, with a quick cut down and across, he fashioned a shallow step.

He moved back and cut a second. ‘Stairs,’ he said. ‘Will that do?’

The fire marshal nodded once and stuck a cautious leg out. He reached back, held the hand of a secretary and guided her out. Kenny continued working his way down the trunk, cutting out steps for the office staff to follow. There were eight workers in all, holding hands in a human chain, all helping each other. The tree shuddered as a burst of flame coughed from the open doorway above. A woman screamed and stumbled, her shoe tumbling to the ground.