Chapter Four
Opening his eyes, Nicky found himself standing in the center of a small oriental village. He knew this only because everyone in the village was of Asian descent.
"Am I dreaming?" he asked himself aloud. "Is this a dream? Doesn't feel like one."
"If you're dreaming, I'm a Kitsune," a shriveled old lady said as she passed by him.
"For all I know, you might be," Nicky called after her. Her laughter faded as she skittered around the corner of a building in the small square. She moved with the swiftness of a young girl, almost skipping her steps, defying the expectations of a woman her age. "Okay, so, not a dream."
He looked around the small square. A squat water well comprised of smooth stones and held together with mortar jutted up from the center of the square right next to Nicky. A small rope snaked out of the hole and wound itself languidly around a purposeful stone on the side of the well. He leaned against the well as he took in the surrounding buildings. Well, huts would be a more apt description for their appearance, and thatch huts at that. The square itself was only about forty paces by forty paces.
Nicky looked up to try and gauge his directional sense from the placement of the sun. Only, there was no sun. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, either. For that matter, there didn't even appear to be a sky at all, just a vast expanse of hazy white from horizon to horizon in every direction.
"Okay," he said with some trepidation.
He looked straight in front of him and saw what appeared to be a small, abandoned market stand complete with a table for displaying goods, a small awning for protection from the sun; if there was one; and a large wok-looking pan in the back nestled atop the ashes of a long-dead fire. The pan looked to be about the diameter of a tractor-trailer tire, which made sense if the owner of the stall regularly cooked for a crowd of market-goers.
"I'm calling that way north," he replied out loud, more to himself than anyone that might be listening.
Looking to his left, he saw another market stand, this one occupied. Its owner was another squat old woman with more wrinkles than a crumpled piece of paper. She stood there behind her table filled with what appeared to be small wooden trinkets of various size and shape. Nicky noted the sharpness in her milk-chocolate eyes. She eyed him for a moment more before turning and walking into the hut behind her.
"West," he said as he watched the old woman's retreating form.
Looking behind him, there was a road about an arm's breadth wide that led outside the village. It looked no more than about an average city-block in length before opening up to reveal tall, wide, flowing green blades of grass.
"South."
He turned to the side of the village square that he hadn't looked at yet and paused with the word, "East" dying on his lips. There stood a figure dressed entirely in dark burgundy, polished Samurai armor. The small leather plates of the armor gleamed in the light and Nicky briefly wondered at the source of the daylight that dance across the armored figure. The helmet was rounded and flared out slightly around the head of the figure. It was reminiscent of Darth Vader's helmet, though it had multiple small plates of leather grafted to the exterior.
Most notable about the armor, though, was the mask. It was eery-looking with single, horizontal slits where the eyes would be. It had a bulbous, polished nose with small holes at the bottom for added breathing above a creeped out version of the Muse of Comedy smile that sent Nicky involuntarily backing up a step.
The figure held a palm-up hand out to Nicky and beckoned him to follow. Without a backward glance, the figure turned and walked away. Nicky blinked for half a second before trailing after the figure with hesitant steps. The figure turned left, disappearing between two buildings. When Nicky made to follow, he stopped in his tracks as the lone Samurai had multiplied by four. The four identically-clad Samurai stood two to each side of a much nicer looking thatched hut with a mustard yellow sheet of fabric for a door. One of the figures motioned toward the entrance, holding his hand in place as Nicky audibly gulped.
"Wha-what's in there?" Nicky stammered.
"Your destiny," said the deep, muffled voice of the one with his hand still held out toward the door.
"And what is my destiny?" Nicky asked, sounding more confident. He suspected that showing fear would only expedite his death if that was their intent.
"Cross the threshold and find out, young one," the man replied.
Nicky strode confidently toward the fabric flap, his gaze fixed on the entrance. Despite the hammering of his heart and the fear churning in his gut, he refused to show any sign of weakness. The four warriors grunted in approval as he passed through the door.
Once inside, Nicky let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. The low light filtering in through the cracks in the walls cast long, snakelike shadows that stretched toward him. He paused, giving his eyes time to adjust to the dimness, and soon noticed that the room was vacant, except for a lone, armor-clad figure standing near the far wall.
Light flashed behind him and the four warriors filed into the hut, coming to stand two abreast of the lone Samurai. The same man that spoke outside the hut spoke again as he motioned toward the warrior in the center.
"Your destiny, young one. Now, disrobe."
Nicky's eyes widened a fraction before he took a deep breath and complied. Don't hesitate, he told himself. Show no fear. He undressed himself gradually, starting with his shirt, followed by his socks and shoes, and then his pants. As he reached for the waistband of his underwear, the man interrupted him with another remark.
"You may leave your undergarments if you wish."
Nicky nodded and stood before the five intimidating warriors.
Nicky noticed that the figure in the center, who he initially thought was a man, was actually an armor stand when the person next to him started to take off the armor.
"Am I going to wear that?" Nicky asked.
"Yes," said the man.
"May I ask why?"
The man paused and turned to look at Nicky. It was impossible to get a read on the man's expression from behind the mask, but Nicky imagined he looked exasperated. His tone of voice, however, didn't betray any emotion at all.
"You have been chosen, young Albert Nicholas Devore of New York."
The ever silent remaining warriors finally moved to continue removing the armor from the stand. When all had been removed except a pair of simple cloth pants and a long-sleeve shirt, the man who served as speaker for the group handed off the armor he had collected and pulled the clothes from the stand.
"Even though I'm not Japanese?" Nicky asked. He struggled to make his comments sound more out of curiosity than fear and trepidation.
"Even the gods have a sense of humor," the man said as he approached Nicky.
Nicky let out a single nervous chuckle. He couldn't help it. His apprehension of the unknown events set out before him set his nerves on edge. "And how do you know my name?"
"We know much about you, young one," the man said as he knelt in front of Nicky and opened the pants, beckoning Nicky to step into them.
"And, uh, what do I call you?" Nicky asked, unsure if he should proceed. "What is your name?"
"You may address me as Shidoshi for the moment," the man said. "Now, step in."
Nicky took an involuntary step back. Shidoshi rose slowly and moved in front of Nicky. The other three warriors stood as still as statues against the far wall with the armor stand. Shidoshi knelt again and held out the pants to Nicky, offering him to step in again.
"Why are you helping me dress?" Nicky asked, sounding somewhat afraid. "If you are my Shidoshi, then shouldn't it be the other way around?"
"I am not your Shidoshi, Nicky," the ancient warrior said, impassive as ever. "I am merely Shidoshi. Now, allow me to clothe you as is custom."
Nicky took a deep breath. Frightened, his nerves on edge, Nicky took a tentative step and placed one foot in the leg of the pants. A thought occurred to Nicky, so he asked what was on his mind as he stepped in the pants with his other foot.
"Custom? Does that mean this has happened before?"
"Custom," Shidoshi said as he pulled the pants over Nicky's waist and began to tie the laces together, "of the new Samurai."
"How can I be a Samurai if I'm not Japanese?" Nicky asked, embarrassed that he was being dressed like child.
"The gods have chosen," Shidoshi answered as he held the shirt aloft.
Nicky raised his arms in the air and the man put the shirt on him. He pulled the shirt down over Nicky's head and straightened the garment. He turned to one of the other warriors and the man approached.
"That still doesn't explain," Nicky said. "Please. I don't know what's going on. Will you tell me?"
"A question for the lore keepers," Shidoshi said, evading the question.
"And they are..." Nicky said, leaving the sentence open for Shidoshi to answer.
"The keepers of lore," Shidoshi answered as he grabbed a pair of leather pants and held them out to Nicky.
Once again, Nicky stepped into the pants and waited as Shidoshi pulled them up and cinched them tight. The warrior then pulled a long-sleeve leather tunic over Nicky's head before tucking into the waistband of his leather pants. The leather was stiff, making Nicky feel like he was wearing some grossly over-starched clothes.
Shidoshi then knelt before Nicky again as he put boots on Nicky's feet. The boots were the same color as the rest of the uniform with a single slit for the big toe to enter. Shidoshi folded and tucked in the hem of Nicky's leather pants before tying the strings tight around his calves to hold the boots in place. Then, the warrior took the left greave and fixed it to Nicky's left shin.
"Honesty:" Shidoshi said as he began to fasten the greave into place. "When warriors say they will perform an action, it is as good as done. Nothing will stop them from completing what they say they will do. They do not have to give their word. They do not have to promise."
That done, the warrior placed the right greave onto Nicky's other leg. "Courage: Hiding like a turtle in a shell is not living at all. A true warrior must have heroic courage. It is absolutely risky. It is living life completely, full, and wonderfully."
Nicky was silent during this impromptu ritual, feeling that it would be taboo if he spoke.
Next, Shidoshi put on Nicky's thigh and groin armor. He spoke again when he put on the backplate and breastplate.
Adjusting and tightening the backplate, Shidoshi said, "Respect: True warriors have no reason to be cruel. They do not need to prove their strength. Warriors are courteous even to their enemies. Warriors are not only respected for their strength in battle, but also by their dealings with others."
Coming around to Nicky's front, Shidoshi fiddled with and tightened the breastplate as he said, "Righteousness: Through intense training and hard work the true warrior becomes quick and strong. They are not as most people. They develop a power that must be used for good. They have compassion. They help their fellow man at every opportunity."
Next, the warrior placed Nicky's shoulder armor over his head. As he fastened it into place on his right side, he said, "Honor: Warriors have only one judge of honor and character, and this is themselves. Decisions they make and how these decisions are carried out is a reflection of whom they truly are."
He continued as the tightened the left Pauldron. "Loyalty: Warriors are responsible for everything that they have done, everything that they have said, and all of the consequences that follow. They are immensely loyal to all of those in their care."
Shidoshi placed the vambraces and gauntlets on Nicky's arms and then checked the remainder of his armor to make sure it was secure. Satisfied that the armor was as it should be, he stood before Nicky with the helmet. The face mask was permanently affixed to the helmet, giving it a macabre vision of a beheading.
The warrior raised the helmet reverently high in the air before slowly lowering it over Nicky's head as he spoke the last of the seven virtues of Bushido.
"Integrity: Be acutely honest throughout your dealings with people. Believe in justice, not from other people, but from yourself. To the true warrior, all points of view are deeply considered regarding honesty, justice, and integrity."
Nicky's breathing grew loud inside his helmet, bringing to mind the distinct sound of Darth Vader's heavy breaths. "What's next?" he asked, his voice echoing within the confines of the helmet.
As one, the four warriors removed their helmets and Nicky audibly gasped, the high-pitched sound ringing all the more loudly inside his helmet. "Pop-pop!?"
