Samurai Steal

I held my breath as I slid back the screen doors of the main room and slipped inside. Moonlight glancing off the gold leaf in the wall paintings created ghostly specks that appeared to be moving about the room. I took a breath to calm myself and tiptoed across the empty space. Kneeling by the secret panel on the far side of the room, I shifted the screen doors just a tad. And waited.

When no-one rushed forward swords slashing, I exhaled slowly. So far so good.

Peering through the crack into the darkness of the sword room, I couldn’t see or hear anyone inside. So, as silently as I could, I opened the screen enough to creep inside on all fours.

The room was dark but I stayed still. Though my heart thumped like a war drum, screaming for me to get on with it, I forced myself to sit for a few minutes staring into the blackness before acting, as I’d been trained to do. The impenetrable dark changed to shades of grey before my eyes. I made out shapes—of the furniture and the spaces between.

And what else? The sword case gleamed in the centre of the room. And by it…a shadow in the shape of a person. Someone was there—a samurai, with their back to me. I felt for my blade and the knife-edged fan in my sleeve, ready to fight if I had to.