Shinobu and the Dragon of Tao Dai

    By Abbigail Nutter

  Every year in the village of Tao Dai, a dragon comes to celebrate the Winter Solstice. Soaring above the silver lined clouds, it would appear three days prior to the New Year’s festivities and perch atop the temple spire, where it would watch the nervous merriment below as the days slowly passed.

     When the night of the festival finally arrived, it would descend from its tower nest and sweep into the jostling crowd. 

      And using the panic that would ensue, the beast would tear three children from his sacred year from their screaming mothers’ grasps, carrying them into the clouds in his mighty claws.

      Those children were never seen again.

~*~

    In his seventeen years, Shinobu Tano had never experienced the New Year’s snowfall, though that was perhaps was a slight exaggeration.

    Shinobu had experienced the flurry of white powder that blanketed the village each winter. He had watched the flakes drift downward from his bedroom window as he listened patiently for the sound of flapping wings.

    But Shinobu had never seen the snowfall in the proper way. He had never witnessed how the fires of the paper lanterns reflected against the brillant white of the snow, creating a kaleidoscope of colors and hues.

    These were the only details that he could manage to milk from his oaf of a brother upon his arrival home. Hazan would be sloshing with the weight of the ale he’d drunk that night, slurring as he filled his younger brother in about the women and the dancing and all the aspects of the festival that he knew Shinobu didn’t care for.

    The snow was all he had. The snow and the legend of the dragon was all he had. All other details of the festival had been kept from him because of his birth year and because he was a child of the flame. There was nothing to be done about the way that he lived in ignorance, and despite his astute curiosity about the creature that haunted his mother's nightmares, he had come to accept his fate as the recluse that his mother's fear forced him to be .

    Even so, Shinobu had always found himself drawn to the great dragon of the Tao Dai village. Or he would have been, if there had been any true information for him to seek out. Not a soul in the village dared to speak of the beast-not even the old storyteller who had filled Shinobu’s childhood with tales of monsters and mayhem. No one he asked would give him any sort of answer.

    Shinobu was a child of the flame, which made no visitor to his home particularly inclined to share with him the fate that awaited three of his kind on the night of lanterns.

    His home had become a place of secrets and lonely torment. His mother had shut him inside his room in fear of the monstrosity in the clouds.

    The days began to blur together in a dim haze and the only notion of the passage of time that Shinobu could gage was the evidence of the changing seasons outside his dust clouded window and the meals that his mother had taken to sending in with the housekeeper rather than deigning to bring them in herself.

    With the passing years and the dragging of the hours, Shinobu Tano’s body grew as pale and colorless as the falling snow. His heart grew bitter and blackened, and his memory was erased from the world outside his little window. The village storyteller had not visited since he ten, and the visits of his mother were separated by days.

    While the saddening tale of Shinobu the Recluse would be fascinating, Shinobu Tano filled his daydreams with becoming to be known and remembered as Shinobu Dragon-Slayer.

    Gazing at his frail form in the cracked mirror that hung on his wall, Shinobu found himself doubting that the later option would ever come to pass. Even so, he spent his time concocting wild plans of escape that would never be successful, even in his wildest fantasies.

    The pale sunlight that streamed through his window told him that winter was fast approaching, and with it an increase in his mother’s alertness to his activities and his whereabouts-though they rarely changed unless Shinobu was using the lavatory or rifling through his father's abandoned closet, which his mother had not bothered to empty before making this his bedroom.

    This meant that Shinobu would have to enact his latest plan of escape sooner rather than later.

    As selfish as it was, Shinobu Tano longed to be as free as the dragon that snatched up the village children once a year.  He longed to soar through the murky night skies and touch the stars as the tips of his wings brushed the ebony sky.

    To be like a dragon was an idea farfetched for one who wished himself to be known as “dragonslayer”. But to be known as a dragonslayer was a humbling thought for one who wished so much to fly.

    But Shinobu knew that he would first have to earn himself a different title: the boy who escaped.

    His mother had sent in vase of water in with his untouched breakfast that morning, which he had left in a neat pile in the corner of his bed for later. He had hurriedly drank that morning before emptying his nervous bladder.

    Grabbing the now empty water jug, Shinobu hurled it at the fragile glass of his bedroom window, watching the glass shatter in a rain of shards and glimmering dust.

    He could hear startled voices rising above the ensuing in the hall and quickly slung the threadbare satchel that he had stolen from his father’s closet over his bony shoulder. Flinging himself across the room like a startled squirrel, Shinobu forced himself through the jagged opening in  the window, wincing as the jagged edges of the broken pane bit into his flesh. 

    This resulted in a slightly battered seventeen year old thrusting himself into the newly piled snow of the first winter’s fall. The white expanse stained itself red with his blood.

      Shinobu wasted no time by looking back at the bleak place he had once called home before sprinting for the edge of the forest that separated Tao Dai from the rest of the wild world.

    Snow flew in his wake, falling to replace the dents in its surface that his quickened footsteps had created.

    Shinobu could hear his mother calling for him in the distance, a sound that faded as the pale green of the pines enveloped him.

    He ran for hours, lost to time and guilt and direction until he found himself bending to a crouch in a grove of towering evergreens, panting breaths escaping his lips with every heaving motion of his chest. A branch the size of a giant arched over him like a guard, its vine like leaves curling to meet his fingertips as he forced himself to his feet.

    “Who are you?” A voice sounded from an unknown source, bouncing off the trunks and vines like the honey notes of a violin in a music house.

    Shinobu whirled, scanning his surroundings for the voice’s location and finding nothing that would satisfy the curiosity pooling in his stomach. “That answer depends wholly on who you are….” He hesitated. “On where you are.” Shinobu added.

    A bell-like laugh was his only answer, in the same key as before. “You are a smart boy then, to not answer the question of a stranger that you cannot see.”

    “My mother taught me to withhold my trust until I can look into someone’s eyes.” Shinobu swallowed dryly, certain that this was some manner of creature that was planning to strip him of his skin and devour him whole.

    “Your mother is a wise woman.” A pair of pale eyes appeared, hovering over the ground and staring at him through long, curled lashes. She seemed to stare into the core of his being ,through flesh and bone and clothing. “Look into my eyes, Shinobu Tano and know that your trust would not be wasted on the likes of me.”

    Shinobu found himself staring at those eyes as they danced with the pale morning light. The snow crunched under the light weight of unseen feet, the sound following the eyes until they were dangerously close. “How do you know my name?”

    “I have known your name for a thousand centuries of more. Since before I crawled from the fires of the mountain that you seek.”

    “Who are you? Why can’t I see you?”

    “I will only become visible to those who have completed the task that was set before them by the gods of old.”

    Shinobu was growing frustrated with the creature's riddles. “And your name?”

    “Is not pronounceable by any manmade tongue.”

    “Perhaps I could give it a try?” Shinobu listened intently to the answering series of whispered sounds. Dumbfounded as he fumbled through the impossible concoction of syllables, he met the eyes of the phantom that stood before him. “Or perhaps there is something else I could call you?”

    A brief silence filled the space, the being in front of him taking its time to formulate a name for itself. “There was a time when I served as a guide to another who was chosen by the gods. She died before she completed the task that you now wish to pursue long ago, before your mother was even a thought in your grandmother's mind. Her name was Aiko. I think that I would like to honor her memory by honoring the name that I saw in her heart. Just as I saw yours.”

    “I shall call you Aiko then.” Shinobu tried to feign normalcy, but with those eyes boring into his being, it was difficult to keep himself from squirming as it studied him.

    “And I shall take you to the mountain, if that is where you truly wish to go.” The name Shinobu Dragon Slayer flashed through his mind once more and Shinobu nodded.

    

    The pair traveled for twenty days and nights, only stopping when Shinobu’s feet would grow too numb to continue or he would find himself in desperate need of rest or food. Aiko seemed to experience none of the human hardships that Shinobu did, which grated on his nerves when he complained about the biting cold and Aiko’s pale eyes would stare back at him, unfazed and lacking the minimum amount of compassion or understanding that any sane person would hope for in a traveling companion.

    Along the way, Aiko had stolen Shinobu a sword of the finest steel that she could find, though she insisted that he wouldn’t be needing it.

    Shinobu had gaped at her, and wondered what manner of creature would think it a good idea to confront a dragon without a weapon to defend against the winged beast. But he had also refrained from commenting, knowing that Aiko was a being of another place and time.

    He watched the sun rise over the expanse of mountains on the twenty first day of their journey, wondering in a secluded corner of his mind whether his mother and brother were watching the same sunrise back on their farm. Aiko, sensing his discomfort when she had first badgered him about the impending solstice and resulting festival, had wandered off in search of something that she claimed that her ancestors had left nearby.

    Shinobu, now cold and alone for the first time since his escape from his room, decided within minutes of Aiko’s quietly announced departure that it would be in both of their best interests if he were to follow. Not that he didn’t have faith in Aiko’s return or in her ability to handle herself without his assistance-gods knew she didn’t need it.

    Despite her lack of a need for his presence, Shinobu wandered in the general direction of where he had heard Aiko’s retreating footsteps. He knew that she had gone towards the West, and glancing down at the slight imprints of feet on the white ground beneath him, he discerned that that assumption was right.

    The alternative was that there was someone else in the area, which was highly unlikely. Still, Shinobu trekked on with a wariness in his mind and his hand on the hilt of his stolen sword. His fingers trailed over the swirling engravings, his mind wandering from the task at hand as he pondered where Aiko could have gotten a blade as fine as this one.

    He was snapped from his thoughts by Aiko’s voice in his ear and the cold metal of her knife at his throat. “State your name and-Shinobu?” Aiko’s hold on him released, and Shinobu stumbled back, gripping the reddening stretch of skin that she had pinned him by.

    “It isn’t polite to hold a knife to someone’s throat.” He snapped.

    Shinobu could hear the scowl in Aiko’s disembodied voice. “And it isn’t polite to spy.”

    “I wasn’t spy-”

    “It is also impolite to lie.”

    It was now Shinobu’s turn to scowl as he took in the empty clearing. The space was unremarkable, empty except for a golden mirror that sat inside of the trunk of a tree that had seemed to grow around its ornate features.

    His bafflement must have shown because Aiko sighed and began to speak in answer to his unspoken question. “The Mirror of Sadai will show you where your truest self lies. It was a gift to the guides, to show our chosen masters the path that they must follow. I brought Aiko here. And now it is your turn to gaze into its surface and see yourself as you truly are.”

    Shinobu approached the mirror as Aiko directed, but hesitated before he stepped into it’s line of sight. “What do you see? When you look into the mirror, what does it show a girl with no body?”

    Aiko sighed, and stepped in front of the mirror.

    Her black hair was tied behind her in coiled braids, a silver headband crossing the muted blue of her freckled skin. A gown of flowing gold and silver was draped over her shoulders.

    Her beauty took Shinobu’s breath away, but was gone before he could take a second look. “Now. Look into the mirror.”

    Shinobu shot her a glare. “If I look into the mirror, will you take me to the dragon’s nest?”

    “If you still wish to confront the beast, I must take you there. It is only a half a day’s journey. Now look into the mirror, Shinobu Tano, and tell me what you see.”

    He did as he was told, and stepped forward.

    When he met the eyes of the mirror’s version of himself, they were not the dull brown that his irises had been since his birth. Instead they were a brilliant yellow that shined gold with the noonday sun.

    In fact, the Shinobu Tano that stared at him through the glass was not Shinobu at all. He matched the towering scale of the trees that surrounded him, with eyes the size of rice bowls and talons the size of daggers. Scales of brilliant gold and bronze covered his serpentine form, and wings sprouted from his oversized shoulders. A tail snaked around his hulking form, its pointed end curling around a tree behind him.

    Shinobu took a step back, followed by another, and another until he was stumbling through the snow and landing on his rear in a panting mess.

    Aiko’s eyes appeared above him, tilted so that she was peering down at him inquisitively. “Did your mother truly never tell you where your father disappeared to all those years ago? One would suspect that you were not a very smart boy after all, if you couldn’t see through the lies that she told you, of how your father perished honorably in a war that did not exist.”

    Fire raged in Shinobu’s eyes as pieced everything together. “Take me to my father. Now.”

    To his surprise, Aiko obliged without a word. They traveled in silence, seasons seeming to pass as the soft press of snow under their feet faded into the crunch of autumn leaves, the bareness of the winter trees transitioning to the half full branches of reds and golds.

    The paused in a great expanse of trees and stone.

    “You will need to change to confront the Black Dragon, Shinobu."

     "I don't know how-"

     "Reach inside yourself, and you will find the dragon's heart that beats next to your human one. Call upon this heart, allow it to take control, and you will become as you were truly meant to be."

    Shinobu did as Aiko instructed and watched the world around him shrink as he changed into the dragon that he had seen in the mirror. He gazed down at Aiko’s disembodied eyes and stretched out his massive wings. Inclining his head to the left as if to tell her to wait there, Shinobu snuffed as though taunting her. 

    Aiko scoffed. “If you think I am going to sit here and wait for you like some damsel in distress, Shinobu Tano-” Her voice was cut off by Shinobu’s disgruntled, rumbling growl.

    “Stay. Here.” As he passed into the caves gaping mouth, he brushed Aiko to the side with his tail before the darkness of a place frozen in time enveloped him.

    Bones of children lined the limestone walls, piled high enough to touch the stalagmites hanging from the ceiling. Shinobu’s hot breath pooled in front of him, the cold of the winter lingering even here. Among the dead, it was only when his tail knocked over a towering pile of silver that Shinobu found any sign of life at all.

    A voice boomed through his very core, laced with spite and greed.  “Who is it? Who is there?” A black mass uncoiled in the corner, towering over Shinobu as it straighten and glowered at him in the dim light. Noticing the presence of a young dragon in the room, his father sneered, flashing teeth as sharp as the blade that Shinobu had left with Aiko.

    “I always thought it would be your brother who took after me.” The black dragon circled him, spiked tail flicking with agitation.

    Shinobu grit his fang-like teeth. “I am nothing like you.

    A grow-like laugh set chills down Shinobu’s spiked spine. “Is that so? I suppose you’re not here to join me in your new life.”

    “I do not kill children for sport. And I certainly don’t let those who do walk away without a fight.” A hissing sigh filled Shinobu’s snout with a smell far worse than rancid meat.

     His father lunged foreword, slamming him against the cavern wall and snapping at Shinobu's torso. Shinobu struggled, thrashing against the stone with sickening cracking noises. Jolts of pain shot up his spine as he managed enough strength to throw his father to the ground. 

     The Black Dragon growled, moving out of the way in time to avoid Shinobu's shining talons. A roar that shook the mountain lashed from his father's maw.

     Shinobu summoned the fire that pooled deep inside his belly, blowing it in a column to meet his father's flame as it came for him. 

    “I do not want to kill you boy. But I will if I must.” The black dragon hurled himself forward, colliding with Shinobu and flying towards the cavern ceiling. Shinobu managed to take hold of his father in his talons, sinking his dagger like teeth into the unprotected flesh of his neck. and hurling him towards the floor as he smashed through the cavern's ceiling.

    The collision sent an entire section of the mountain surging in like an avalanche of rock and stone.

    Shinobu thrust his wings downwards, breaking away as his father tore at his neck with claws of iron. He flew high into the sky, watching as the mountain caved in on itself and buried the black dragon of Tao Dai with the bones of his victims and the red of the now freezing leaves.

    ~*~

     Every year in the village of Tao Dai, a dragon still comes to celebrate the winter solstice. He sits atop the temple spire, his bronze and gold scales shining in the winter sun as he watches the snow fall onto the glowing paper lanterns that he lit with the fire in his belly.

    Under his wing, a girl with blue skin rests against his warmth, dozing as the snow begins to pile below them.

    And every year, the dragon of Tao Dai flies into the blackness of night as the last lantern fades into darkness, the girl who sits atop his back laughing as her fingertips brush the stars.