KATANAGATARI 1

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By no means was this room spacious─frankly, it was cramped. Devoid of furniture, much less any decorations, it was floored with tatami2 and bare.3 One person, on his own, would take up almost all of the room.

In it sat a man.

He was lanky, with long hair like a girl.

A simple black kimono.

Eyes closed, he sat cross-legged in the center.

He almost seemed asleep─no.

In fact he was.

Given the hour, it was not the strangest thing─and sure, some people could probably sleep cross-legged, right?

Nevertheless.

A man asleep with a katana at his waist was rare no matter what. He slumbered with the sword, in its black scabbard,4 slipped between his obi and left hip, and as if leaning on it.

Or perhaps─

Safeguarding it.

As if it were more important than his life.

“…”

Hearing the fusuma slide open, the man in black slowly opened his eyes.

“Hek hek hek hek.”

To the sound of an utterly unnatural and bizarre laugh.

From the doorway another figure slithered into the tiny room. He was attired like a ninja─but this was not the standard ninja outfit you might be imagining. It had no sleeves, and in their place, fat chains were strung around his body.

“Od annog ahctahw tub. Ni thgir egrab dna nepo rood eht worht ajnin a evah ot gnissarrabme dat,” the ninja said.

But he was totally incomprehensible.

Incomprehensible─and yet this was precisely his astonishing special trait.

An unnatural, bizarre─trait.

“Nalc Awinam eht fo sessob evlewt eht fo eno, Awinam Igasarihs em llac nac uoy tub, 5Igasarihs Sdrowkcab em llac elpoep tsom.”

“…”

To that.

The man in black only narrowed his eyes in annoyance. The hour was a factor, and after this rude awakening, perhaps he wasn’t thinking straight─but even in broad daylight, a ninja who spoke thus would be hard to welcome. Perversely, having entered through the doorway like a normal person began to seem wrong in the case of this absurd shinobi.6

“Hek hek hek,” snickered Shirasagi “Backwords” Maniwa.

In reverse.

“Gniws elgnis a htiw evlah tonnac ti gnihton si ereht taht yas yeht. Edalb emosraef a. Ikazikihs Ikik yb degrof dnasuoht eht gnoma seceipretsam, Dessessop Evlewt eht fo eno. Rozar7 eht Otnaz? Rozar yradnegel eht pih ruoy ta anatak suoicerp taht si, ym ho?”

He added:

“Em ot ti evig.”

“…”

“Dnatsrednu uoy, yrlavir yldneirf a. Kcen dna kcen eb lliw I dna eh, drows ruoy emmig uoy fi tub, em fo daeha pets a si Iromok knup taht.”

“…”

“Sdnah daed ruoy morf ti yrp I dna, on yas.”

Shirasagi gave a nasty look, as if to hint that he preferred the latter.

The Maniwa.

Known only to those in the know, a band of expert assassins─and the ninpo used by Shirasagi Maniwa, especially, was dangerous enough to keep the other bosses cautious.8 Nearly every one of them had thanked their lucky stars for not having Shirasagi as an enemy. His bizarre backwards way of talking was a function of his ninpo, the absolute horror of which was only known to those who opposed him─like this man in black, for instance, sword at his hip and still sitting.

Still not moving.

Far from handing over the katana, he had not so much as twitched─unresponsive to the point that he might have been sleeping with his eyes open.

Had he failed to decipher Backwords Shirasagi’s speech?

Quite possibly.

“Yako, yadyreve ees ot teg uoy gnihtemos ton s’ti? Dab taht opnin ym ees ot tnaw uoy? Sgnileef ym struh ti, em gnirongi tiuq, aohw.”

Shing!