Jason Rohan - The Sword of Kuromori

This was obviously another sophisticated game he was playing. Kenny shrugged to himself, picked up his phone and took a photograph of the letter. He then nibbled one end of the pearly paper. It dissolved on his tongue like a wafer. Rice paper , he thought, before popping the rest into his mouth.

That left the whistle. It was a short length of bamboo, with a slot to blow through, a square opening on the top and a drilled hole at the end. Underneath was a carving:

Kenny poked his nose up over the headrest to check that no one was looking and then gave a gentle blow on the pipe. Pfft . No sound came out. Kenny tried again, this time blowing harder. Pffftt . As before, all he could hear was his own breath rushing through the tube. Thinking it must be a trick, he gave it one final blow, with all the force his lungs could muster. Pfffff –

He stopped, mid-puff, as a furious knocking came from the overhead storage compartment. Kenny froze, the whistle to his lips, and listened. The knocking stopped, to be replaced by a scratching noise from the same place. That is totally freaky . He felt goosebumps rising on his arms as he sat there, unsure of what to do.

The cabin address system pinged, making Kenny jump, and the purser said, ‘We are now commencing our final approach to Narita International Airport.’

As passengers took this cue to move around, making last visits to the bathroom, stowing bags in the overhead bins and under seats, stretching and yawning, Kenny stood and stared at the door to the locker above his seat. He wanted to open it, to look inside, but he was afraid of what he might find. Instead, he rapped twice on the door. Instantly, a tap-tap came in reply. He took a deep breath, opened the door slightly and peered in.

Staring back at him were two round, liquid eyes. Kenny yelled in surprise and fell backwards, landing on an extremely large lady who was munching on a packet of peanuts.

‘Watch what you’re doing!’ the woman said, as peanuts sprayed across the cabin.

‘I’m very sorry, ma’am,’ Kenny mumbled, backing away from her, but keeping his distance from the half-opened locker.

Dan, the steward, reappeared. ‘Can I help anyone?’ he said.

Kenny pointed at the overhead bin. ‘There’s a . . . There’s a . . . thing, in there,’ he said.

‘A thing? What sort of thing? Has something happened to your bag?’

‘No, some kind of . . . animal,’ Kenny said, his voice small.

‘Isn’t it a bit late for pranks? Listen, I know you’ve had a long flight, but we’re almost there now and you’ll soon be off the plane,’ Dan said.

‘I’m telling the truth,’ Kenny said, his voice shaking. ‘There’s an animal in there. Really. I saw it.’

‘Animals aren’t allowed on flights,’ the peanut lady said. ‘Everyone knows that. I’ve never heard such garbage in my life.’

‘OK, OK,’ Dan said, reaching up for the handle. ‘Let’s have a look in here and see what all the fuss is about.’

Kenny stood behind the steward, peering round him. The door swung upwards and there, sprawled in the wide bay, leaning against Kenny’s backpack with legs crossed, was a fat, furry animal, about the size of a badger. Its face was foxlike, with a long narrow nose, and its thick hair was reddish-brown. Its legs were black and the dark fur ran up its chest and around the snout to circle the eyes.

‘There,’ Dan said, ‘nothing in there, just your bag.’

Kenny’s mouth fell open. ‘Are you . . .? But-but can’t you see . . .?’

The creature, whatever it was, waved a paw at Kenny and placed a finger over its pursed lips. It then yawned and farted. Kenny stared before whipping his head round to see his fellow passengers all watching him.

‘Does . . . does anyone else . . . see that ?’ he asked, struggling to form the words and pointing at the furry creature.

‘Kid, there’s nothing in there,’ said the peanut lady, measuring each word.

‘Poor thing, he must be really tired if he’s hallucinating,’ someone said.

‘Probably on drugs,’ another voice added. ‘Kids these days, eh?’

‘Oh, come on . Is this some kind of joke?’ Kenny said, his voice rising and eyes searching face after face. ‘Are you really all telling me that you can’t see that . . . thing in there?’

Rows of blank faces answered Kenny’s question before the passengers lost interest and returned to their pre-landing activities.

‘Look, young man, I think it’s time you returned to your seat and got ready for landing,’ Dan said, his voice gentle but firm. ‘You’ve had your fun, but now the joke’s getting a bit old, OK?’

Kenny nodded, numbly, and took one last look at the furry creature snuggling against his backpack. It blew him a kiss before Dan closed the door on it. He slumped back into his seat, his head spinning, and fastened his seat belt.

Naoko, the Japanese attendant, came along the aisle. She reached over to take his rubbish and said quietly, ‘That thing you saw. Was it large and hairy, with black eyes like a raccoon?’

Kenny nodded. ‘Yeah, how did you . . .?’

Naoko smiled. ‘I didn’t see it, either.’ She winked at him.

Kenny slumped back in his seat, his arms crossed, and ignored the curious looks directed his way. This was not what he was expecting at all. It was bad enough that his grandfather had sent him to Japan of all places, but to spend the next twelve weeks with his dad was worse. And now, to top it all, some weird animal was stalking him.

He closed his eyes, picturing his room back in the Oregon International School. His room-mate Chad would be home by now in Boston. He would be off soon to Namibia for a safari with his family. Kenny sighed. How nice it must be to have a family.

The remainder of the flight passed uneventfully and when Kenny went to collect his backpack from the overhead storage, the animal, whatever it was, had gone; he must have imagined it after all.

He made his way down the walkway into the spacious, ultra-modern terminal building and on towards immigration control. He was feeling much happier to be back on solid ground. His good mood, however, was not to last.

When his turn came, the uniformed immigration officer beckoned Kenny forward and he handed over his passport and landing card. The official swiped the claret-coloured passport through the biometric scanner, stopped, examined the computer screen intently and then swiped the document again. He waved for his supervisor and the two men spoke briefly. Kenny shifted his weight and thrust his hands into his pockets.

The supervisor inspected the passport photo and compared it to Kenny’s face.

‘What is your name, please?’ the officer said.

‘It’s Kenny, sir. Kenneth Blackwood.’

‘How old are you?’

‘I’m fifteen.’

‘You are travelling alone?’

Kenny nodded, wondering where the questions were leading.

The official tapped a finger on the landing card. ‘You have British passport, but this address is in America. Is that right?’

‘Yes. I was born in England, but I moved to the States when I was eight. My mum was American, so I have dual nationality. Is that a problem?’

‘This address is not a house,’ the officer said, reading the card.

Kenny sighed. ‘No, it’s a boarding school. It’s where I live.’

The official raised an eyebrow. ‘Boarding school? Like Harry Po–’