The Shield of Kuromori. Jason Rohan

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The Shield of Kuromori - Jason Rohan The Kuromori Series

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blue oni reacted immediately. With a roar, he levelled the steel pole in his hand, then swung it straight at Kiyomi to squish her like a bug.

      ‘NO!’ barked one of the newcomers. Something flashed in his hand, thunder echoed through the dome and Blue’s head exploded like a water balloon. Kiyomi froze, one hand tucked into the gap between the two tubes.

      The blue oni’s twitching body crumbled to dust and the huge gun barrel swung in her direction. The hand holding it glinted in the dim light.

      ‘I thought I made myself perfectly clear,’ the newcomer said to Red, whose complexion was draining to a weak pink. ‘There is to be no damage to the telescope. Speaking of which . . .’ CLICK-CLICK. His thumb ratcheted back the hammer on the heavy pistol and he took aim at Kiyomi’s chest. ‘Move. Now.’

      Kiyomi didn’t wait for a second request. She sprang up, arms outstretched, caught hold of the partly assembled metal frame above her head and vaulted on to the circular walkway, which doubled as a viewing gallery where the wall ended and the dome began.

      ‘Stay up there, out of my way, and I won’t kill you,’ warned the oni with the gun. ‘Agreed?’

      ‘Agreed,’ Kiyomi said. She wasn’t sure, given the distance, but the new oni seemed to be wearing a silver mask.

      The oni in the passageway behind him, a lavender-hued brute with one arm longer than the other, set down the oil drum he was carrying and picked up the fallen scaffolding pole. Handing it to Red, he said, ‘What are you waiting for? Shogatsu? Hurry it up.’

      Crouched down on the walkway and watching the oni below, Kiyomi reached for her phone. She had two thoughts: What the heck are those oni doing? and Where’s Kenny when I need him?

      Orange flickers illuminated the top floor of the gutted building. The metal stairs and platforms of the fire-escape hung like modern art sculptures on the wall. Kenny listened intently, trying to filter out the incessant shrill of the fire alarms and approaching sirens.

      THUMP-THUMP-THUMP! It was unmistakable: someone was pounding on the fire-escape door, trying to break it loose from its warped frame. Kenny scoured his surroundings. People were trapped on what remained of the top floor and, with time running out, he had to help them down – but how?

      KRAKK! Kenny looked up. The sound had come from one of the many tall trees around him. This one was sagging inward, close to a blazing window. Its leaves had shrivelled in the heat and a heavy branch had split as the moisture inside had turned to steam and expanded. Staring up at the tree, Kenny had an idea.

      He stood directly beneath the fire-escape door – high above on the third floor – and marched away from the building, counting the distance in paces. Satisfied, he stopped and selected a large pine tree, about twenty metres tall and half a metre wide.

      ‘Here goes,’ he said to himself and, hefting the sword, he cut a deep notch into the trunk with two diagonal swipes, one down and one up. A wedge of trunk fell out. Kenny waited. Nothing happened. He cut again, making the cleft deeper. Still nothing.

      ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake!’ He stepped back from the tree, took a running jump and drop-kicked the trunk as high as he could. The pine shuddered and, with a series of cracks as loud as gunshots, it began to topple.

      ‘Yes, yes!’ Kenny cheered, watching it swing towards the building. Then ‘No, no!’ as it begin to twist away.

      Fists clenched and eyes screwed shut, Kenny concentrated his will. Two blasts of wind caught the upper branches on each side, holding the treetop for a moment. It rolled and then began to fall again. The tip smashed in the fire-escape door and the long straight trunk settled at a 45-degree angle.

      Kenny punched the air and began clambering up the trunk. He wove his way round the first few branches, then called Kusanagi and lopped away the thicker foliage. The trunk tapered at the top, where it rested on the sill. ‘Hello in there!’ Kenny called through the battered door. ‘You’ve got to leave now.’

      A bespectacled Japanese man gaped at him from the doorway, eyes as wide and bulgy as a goldfish. ‘Shinji rarenai,’ he said.

      ‘Come on!’ Kenny extended his arm. ‘Let’s go.’

      The man shook his head and backed away. A younger man, wearing a fire marshal’s reflective vest, pushed past him. ‘The tree,’ he said. ‘It’s not safe.’

      ‘Of course it is. Look.’ Kenny jumped on the trunk. It creaked and shook. His foot slipped and he landed with a thump on his rear, dislodging a bird’s nest which shattered on the ground, far below. ‘OK, tell you what. I’ll make it easier.’ Kenny took Kusanagi and, with a quick cut down and across, he fashioned a shallow step.

      He moved back and cut a second. ‘Stairs,’ he said. ‘Will that do?’

      The fire marshal nodded once and stuck a cautious leg out. He reached back, held the hand of a secretary and guided her out. Kenny continued working his way down the trunk, cutting out steps for the office staff to follow. There were eight workers in all, holding hands in a human chain, all helping each other. The tree shuddered as a burst of flame coughed from the open doorway above. A woman screamed and stumbled, her shoe tumbling to the ground.

      ‘It’s OK,’ Kenny called up. ‘You’re doing great.’

      BZZZT! Kenny’s wrist vibrated.

      He carved out the last step and jumped down to check his smartwatch. TRAPPED IN DOME WITH 3 ONI AND MORE ON THE WAY. BE CAREFUL. Kenny blinked. Since when did Kiyomi ever warn him to be careful? It was usually the other way round. How bad was this?

      He took a quick look to make sure that the office workers were safely clear of the blazing ruin and then made for the short road leading to the observatory. Rounding the trees, he saw another delivery van whizz past, followed by the earth-shaking bulk of a container lorry. Both ground to a halt outside the domed building.

      Kenny’s feet pounded the asphalt as he drew nearer. The back doors of the van flew open and a grey oni jumped out. It was hunched over, carrying something. Kenny slowed down, trying to make out what it was. One hand supported the weight, the other gripped a handle. Was it a leaf blower? A hedge trimmer? A chainsaw?

      The oni strode away from the vehicles and levelled the object in Kenny’s direction. His blood turned to ice as he made out six long tubes in a circular arrangement.

      Kenny had played enough video games to recognise a M134 Gatling Minigun when he saw one – and this one was aimed right at him.

      SQUEEEEEEEE-AAAAAWWW! The screech of the circular saw changed pitch as it bit into the metal of the telescope mount, bearing down harder and spraying an arc of golden sparks across the floor. The lavender oni leaned in, pressing down on the spinning disc.

      ‘Easy does it. You don’t want to snap the blade,’ warned the silver-masked team leader. He hummed a tune to himself while he inspected the gantry assembled round the telescope. Scaffolding poles criss-crossed in a steel web and heavy cables were draped around the huge instrument.

      Kiyomi sat up at the sound of doors opening. Eleven pairs of heavy boots clomped into the room and took up positions around the perimeter. Eleven oni – four dressed as drivers, plus seven passengers – add the three in the room . . .

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