The term "ninja" might evoke thoughts similar to the terms vampires, werewolves, or zombies. While the existence of the latter are barely debatable, there's no question as to the existence of ninjas. Of course, the odds that you would encounter a ninja are about the same as that of a vampire or werewolve and the odds of surviving such encounter with a ninja are probably smaller. This is the story of my encounter with a ninja.

I was born in NY but when I was five years old we moved to the outskirts of Tokyo Japan, greatly increasing my chances of a ninja confrontation. Almost immediately I was drawn to the martial arts. While I had trouble with the language barrier, martial arts was truly a universal language. I joined a local karate dojo and practically lived there. By the age of ten I had my black belt and was one of the best in my age group. In fact I could dominate those who were a few years older than me.

We had a few sensei there and they were all remarkably demanding and relentless. My ichiban (favorite) was Sensei Karurosa who was probably the toughest of them all, although always fair. To him, karate was truly an art form, a religion almost. Any disrespect shown in the dojo was not taken lightly and simply performing poorly was considered disrespectful.

There were two brothers named Robutaku & Sutebe who practiced at the dojo almost as much as I did. Robutaku was just ten months older than his brother. I said I was one of the best there, well these two WERE the best. I was about the same age as the two and each one kicked my ass every time we fought. They was also the cockiest, meanest, truculent two bastards you'd ever meet. They were constantly persecuting everyone they could, mainly at school and sometimes in the dojo when they had a chance. When Robutaku & Sutebe were about fourteen years old they put a six year old in the hospital with four broken ribs and a punctured lung. The six year old was a black belt, but come on. When Sensei Karurosa got wind of this he was extremely upset. Especially when he found out that it happened in the dojo and that it was far from the first time something like this had occured. Karate is an art of defense, not aggression.

So he set up a match, just he and them. Now, these two fighting together could take out any dojo member there, however Sensei Karurosa was another matter. He had as many dojo members watch as could fit and proceded to absolutely demolish the two brothers. He broke ribs on both of them, one brother's arm and another's nose. He finished off BOTH of them with a knee to the groin, a move which was not usually permitted in dojo matches. He then grabbed both of them by the hair, dragged them all the way outside, pushed them out the stairs and told them never to come back.

I really liked Sensei Karurosa.

A few years later when I was sixteen I found out that we were moving back to the States. I was excited and devastated at the same time. The day before our departure I spent much of the day at the dojo. I said my goodbyes to everyone there saving Sensei Karurosa for last. I went into his "office" and told him I was leaving. He wished me the best and said to always remember that my fate rests solely in my hands.

That night I went to bed around eleven PM, we were to leave at seven AM the next morning and I was all packed and ready to go. Problem was, I couldn't sleep. At 1 am I got up and said screw it, I'll sleep on the plane. I wanted to go back to the dojo, it was only a twenty minute walk. Yes, I was obsessed but it really was like a second home.

The dojo was open 24/7, there was always at least one sensei there. However, on a Monday morning the dojo was usually vacant. I imagined the sensei would be sleeping as they had beds there. I was already dressed in my gear when I got there. The light at the entrance appeared to have burned out but as expected, the door was unlocked and the dojo was dark, quiet and empty. I was about to begin stretching when I heard an odd laugh. It was coming from a small room at the end of a corridor. As I slowly approached the room I saw Sensei Karurosa on a chair, his hands tied behind his back, his lifeless eyes gazing right at me. I couldn't believe it. Then a dark figure stepped in front of him, his back to me. Dressed completely in black, I knew it was a ninja. A fucking ninja! Only a ninja could kill Sensei Karurosa. I recoiled a bit to be sure that the ninja couldn't see me. What was I to do? What had Sensei done to deserve this? I was paralyzed with fear and sorrow.

And then the unthinkable happened. I farted. I tried to cut it off but it was too late, the damage was done. I immediately ran. I didn't wait to see if the ninja had heard it, I knew he had. I ran as fast as I could to the other end of the dojo. I had no idea whether the ninja was following me but I was sure he was. I couldn't hear anything, but fuck, he's a ninja so you're not supposed to hear anything. I think I let another one go while I was running, perhaps that slowed him down a bit (I had eaten beans that night for dinner).

I ended up running into Sensei Karurosa's office. I leaped over the desk and hunched below it. The lights were off. I was in excellent shape so fortunately I wasn't breathing heavy. Had the ninja been right on my tail I'd already be dead. But this was a ninja, and ninjas plan, even if it takes a few seconds. I knew I had to think of something. All I could think of was Sensei Karurosa. He had taught me so much and now he was dead, just hours earlier I had been in this office, sitting right in front of the desk I was now hiding under.

Then I heard his voice in my head, clear as day, say " Always remember that your fate rests solely in your hands". On his wall, right behind where Sensei Karurosa had sat was a katana (a long Japanese sword). I had always admired the sword (especially before I had left), it was stunning but no one was ever allowed to touch it. Even though it was pitch black I could sense where it was. I grabbed it off the wall and started to crouch back below the table when I felt a searing pain in my shoulder. The lights flipped on and I saw a throwing star coming right at my face, followed by a charging ninja with a small sword.

I dodged left and whipped my right shoulder back. I continued to swirl as I lifted the katana into the air, gaining speed. By the time I had almost completed my three-sixty the ninja was practically on me. The blade of the katana hit his neck and I swear there was a look of fear in his eyes. He wasn't looking at me, but at the wall where the katana had been. The katana seared though his neck and his separated head fell to the floor while his body, about a foot off the ground at the time of contact, fell forward and slid over the low desk and onto the ground. His head just laid there on the floor, his eyes almost looking at mine.

My heart was racing a million beats per minute. I pulled the first throwing star out of my shoulder. Who was this ninja? I knew I had to pull the mask off the head to find out, not an easy task when it's not attached to the body. I picked up the severed head. It was damp with perspiration and very hot. Generally when you pick up an inanimate object you don't expect it do be so warm, it's one of the strongest memories I have from that night. In order to peel off the mask I had to place it under my elbow. Of course there was no way of doing this without getting quite a bit of blood and god knows what else on me. I pulled the mask up, slowly for some reason, and saw the face of Sutebe, the younger of the two brothers who had been banished from the dojo years earlier. I had heard rumors that they had taken up ninjitsu but no one really believed it.

Then it hit me. Sutebe was never alone. He was always with Robutaku. I knew I had gotten lucky, Sutebe hadn't expected to face a katana. I peered out the hallway but the lights were out. Had Sutebe turned them off, or had Robutaku? After about 20 seconds of debate, I decided to do the only thing I could think of. I ran as fast as I could. I had no idea where Robutaku was but I knew he was close. I ran all the way until I neared the last long corridor. I briefly looked behind me and then peered around the corner. Both were clear. I began to run again, faster than I had ever run before. As I approached the front doors I saw a figure in the reflection of the door window. Something whirred by my ear and the glass window exploded as what must have been a throwing star tore through it. I burst through the doors and ran all the way home, never stopping to look behind. Needless to say I didn't sleep that night. Didn't sleep on the plane to NY either.

I spoke to a friend at the dojo a few days later and he said that Sensei Karurosa was missing. I didn't tell him what happened but clearly two bodies weren't discovered there. I guess that's why Robutaku didn't chase me, he was busy cleaning up and disposing of the corpses.

I now live in fear. Everyday since then it haunts me. It's been ten years since that night. I contacted a private investigator in Japan two years ago and he said that Robutaku left Japan four years ago, never to return. I don't know where he is. But I'm sure that someday, he'll come for me. Ninjas never forget. They never give up. They are inexorable in every sense.

The only time I feel safe is when I'm holding Sensei Karurosa's katana. I never let go of it that night. I brought it home and held it front of me, waiting & waiting. I still hold it the same way I did that night, just waiting. I can feel Karurosa's power when I hold the katana. I still hear his voice say "Always remember that your fate rests solely in your hands."