Blood Ninja Read Online Free PDF

right?”
    The huge form of Hiro loomed out of the darkness. The ninja beside Taro reached for something in his robes, but Taro put a hand on his arm. “No. He’s my friend.”
    The ninja stilled his arm, but just then another dark figure appeared out of the night and launched itself at Hiro, short-sword whirling. Hiro ducked below the sword’s trajectory and brought his fist up hard, smashing it into the man’s solar plexus. The ninja slumped, and Hiro, not hesitating even a fraction, stooped to pick up the sword and then stabbed it downward, cleaving the attacker’s neck.
    He straightened up, holding the torch and the sword, turning his head searchingly.
    “Over here!” said Taro, as loud as he dared.
    Hiro moved toward him, picking his way across the rocky ground. Then Taro saw a black shape rising in front of his friend.
    Ninja!
    The ninja threw something—like a black stone—and beforeHiro could move to avoid it, there was an explosion in front of his face, and as Hiro was distracted by the flash, the ninja brought up his wakizashi and knocked the stolen sword from Hiro’s grip. The torch Hiro had been holding in his other hand fell to the ground and guttered there, vacillating in the wind. In the flickering light the ninja stuck out a hand and jabbed a finger into Hiro’s neck—Hiro’s legs crumpled and he collapsed to his knees.
    Taro started forward, reaching behind his head for an arrow even as he kept his eyes fixed on the black figure as it drew its sword and raised it, ready for the killing stroke—
    Taro armed the bow and let the arrow fly in one smooth movement, and the black figure paused, seeming to stare down at Hiro. Then he tumbled forward. Taro grabbed Hiro’s arm and helped him to his feet. Beside him lay the ninja, an arrowhead protruding from his mouth, like an obscene tongue, and his eyes rolled back in his head.
    Hiro picked up his sword and torch. “Good shot,” he wheezed. Then he saw the ninja who was helping Taro, and his eyes went wide and he raised his sword. Taro held up his hands.
    “No! This one’s on our side,” he said. “He’s a good ninja.”
    Hiro raised his eyebrows in suspicion but lowered the sword.
    “Gods,” said Taro. “You’re wounded.”
    Hiro moved his hand to his face. He grimaced, and Taro knew that his old friend was in agony. For Hiro to succumb to the pain enough to acknowledge it in any way was a bad sign. The boy’s left cheek was split open, blood spilling from it thickly.
    “It will heal,” said Hiro.
    Taro nodded. They would worry about the cut later. “Are they gone?” he asked, turning to the ninja. The man shook his head.
    Into the circle of light cast by the torch, a black figure stepped, his weapon raised. “You are turned traitor, I see,” he said to Taro’s rescuer. “But now you must give yourself up. And the boy, too. You are outnumbered.”
    Then something happened that Taro could never afterward remember clearly.
    A pale movement flashed in front of him, light gleaming on something long and thin.
    Then a sword hilt was sticking out of his stomach, like a grotesque growth. Taro stared down at it. Blood was soaking through his cloak, and dripping down his trousers to pool in the crevices of his toes.
    “What—,” he began.
    And then the pain hit.
    He doubled over, gasping, unable to breathe, feeling the burning metal that had pierced his organs and—he knew without checking—burst out through his back. At that moment his knees gave way, and it struck him with a horror that crawled on his skin that his spine might have been severed.
    But I can’t just die , he thought. I was going to be a samurai …
    His vision blurring so that it seemed the scene was darkened by rain, he just made out the good ninja as he swiftly slit the throat of the man who had stabbed Taro. For a moment he was a tearing, spinning thing, a whirlwind, and then there was a calm point in the storm.
    Ahead, Hiro pushed back the ninjas, who had fallen