Firefly

by India Millar

  I had no idea what he meant, but as he seemed pleased, I smiled as enticingly as I could.

  “Whichever you like,” I whispered. The lies caught in my throat and I had to cough before I could continue. “But first, I would love to take your tree in my mouth.”

  I barely managed not to shudder at the thought. Choki wagged his tree at me happily, pulling the hood down and back and running it between his fingers. I stared at it in appalled fascination. I had never seen an erect tree before and could not believe that any woman could find it attractive. Choki’s tree seemed to be threaded with numerous veins, protruding like so many worms that might begin to wriggle at any moment. The exposed head of his tree was bright red and streaked with what looked like beaten egg white. I felt nauseous at the very thought of putting it between my lips. But anything was better than having him put it inside me.

  “I would enjoy that greatly,” Choki murmured happily. He took one hand away from his tree and stroked my face with his fingers. I clenched my teeth to stop myself from biting him. “You don’t look at all like your sister,” he said with casual cruelty. “But if one doesn’t compare you to her, you’re not unattractive. And I do like a girl with an athletic figure. You know, if you prove your worth today, I might even be persuaded to put in an offer to your father for you.”

  I gasped in disbelief at his words. Choki smiled widely, obviously mistaking my incredulity as an indication of pleasure. My fear suddenly turned to anger. How dare this nasty, stinking man take advantage of his status as a guest in our house to attempt to seduce me?

  “You are too kind, Choki-san.” I could not believe he didn’t hear the sarcasm in my voice. But it was obvious he had not. He preened, sticking the tip of his tongue between his teeth like a cat enjoying being stroked.

  “We will see.” He glanced at my stone face and must have seen optimism there as he went on quickly. “Not quite marriage, of course. My own bride was chosen for me years ago by our families. A girl from an excellent family with a good dowry. A placid, dutiful girl, and rather dull, but it doesn’t matter. She will only be my wife, after all. But I may consider taking you as my concubine, as my number two wife. There would be a ceremony, naturally,” he added grandly.

  I was dumb with fury. Had there been any sort of weapon to hand, I would have killed him at that moment and then committed suicide. I glanced around wildly, hoping to be able to find something deadly, but there was nothing other than the dreadful pillow book and the cushions we were kneeling on.

  “Come. Enough of the pleasantries. My tree is longing for your attention.”

  I stared at it, bobbing at me from the pressure of his fingers. I would take his tree in my mouth, as he wanted. And once it was well between my lips, I would bite it so hard he would never be able to bring himself to show it to a woman again.

  He would, of course, be incandescent with rage. He would complain to Isamu. No doubt tell him that it was I who had led him on and then assaulted him viciously when he had given in to me. Tradition and courtesy would dictate that it was the honored guest who was believed. If Isamu were angry enough with me, he would cut my head off with his sword and my name would be wiped from the family records. It was a matter of honor. I understood that. I also knew that whatever course I followed would end in disaster for me. At least this way, I would have the satisfaction of knowing that I had been true to myself. I rejoiced in the knowledge.

  I bent down to Choki’s tree. The very tip of my tongue touched his flesh, and I heard him exhale with the anticipation of pleasures yet to come.

  He tasted vile. I had noticed from the day he had arrived that no matter how often he visited the bathhouse, Choki’s body gave out an offensive odor. He smelled of old sweat and rotting fish. When he was fully clothed, it was bad but bearable. Now that he had tossed aside his robe, it was poisonous. I knew then that I could not take that thing in my mouth willingly. I felt a flash of intense pity for his poor bride, condemned to tolerate this for the rest of her life.

  “What? What is it? Why have you stopped?” He sounded pettish. Was it possible that he could have no idea how badly he stank?

  “I am sorry, Choki-san. I…I cannot.” I took a deep breath to calm myself and instantly wished I had not. I guessed Choki was becoming angry and that the strong emotion was somehow intensifying his bodily odors.

  Suddenly, I knew that he was perfectly well aware of his own stink. His face was twitching with fury. He hissed wordlessly, flecks of saliva spitting into my face.

  “You nasty little bitch! I offer you the honor of enjoying my body and this is how you repay me? Well, if you won’t give yourself to me freely, then I’ll take you. Simple as that. And don’t think you can go running to your brother and telling him all about it. He won’t believe you.”

  I closed my lips tightly and shook my head. The wrong thing to do. Choki roared with anger and lunged at me, grabbing my hair and forcing my head down to his groin. His tree mashed hard against my mouth. The fish stink made my eyes water. I was determined not to open my lips. I would die first, and if possible, I would make sure that Choki died with me. Perhaps then Isamu would understand that my death had been greater than my life. That even though my body was nothing more than a weak and useless girl’s, my spirit was truly that of a samurai.

  Choki shoved his tree so hard against my lips that it hurt. Finding I would still not open my mouth, he struck me around my head, and then again. The blows made me gasp involuntarily, and as soon as my lips were parted, he slid the tip of his tree into my mouth, bashing it against my teeth. I retched, trying to pull away. The more I struggled, the better Choki seemed to like it. His hands were on each side of my head, holding me tight. No matter how I tried, I could not get away from him. I gagged, my eyes watering as I tried to breathe without inhaling his stink. Finally despairing of getting free any other way, I forced my teeth to part. Choki grunted with pleasure and promptly thrust his tree so far into my mouth I thought he expected me to swallow it. I closed my eyes and offered up a quick prayer to the gods as I prepared to bite as hard as I possibly could on the stinking gobbet of flesh that filled my mouth.

  Suddenly, Choki was still. Before I could give him more than a sharp nip, he was leaning back and pulling his tree out of my mouth. My eyes were streaming with tears. I could see nothing. I was sure that Isamu—or even worse, my father—had come into the room unexpectedly. I blinked fiercely, trying to regain my vision. I flushed with shame as I understood how this would look to either man.

  “Does he know you? Will he obey you?” Choki whispered. I looked at him in bewilderment and then followed his horrified gaze.

  It was no man who stood in the doorway. For a second, I was bewildered, and then I understood what I was looking at and relief made me limp. Isamu’s favorite hunting dog, an akita he had named Matsuo, filled the entrance to the room. Akita are used for hunting deer and are big, powerful dogs. Even for an akita, Matsuo was huge. His name meant shining hero. Isamu had named him that when his horse had thrown him during a hunt once and he had landed almost on top of a snake, a full-grown mamushi whose bite could have been fatal and would certainly have been horribly painful for a long time. Snakes nearly always slide away from men, but this one did not. Isamu said it looked as if it was about to shed its skin, the point at which all snakes are most dangerous. Instead of fleeing, it reared up at Isamu and was about to strike when Matsuo rushed at it from behind and grabbed it by the neck. By the time Isamu had climbed to his feet, the snake was bitten in two.

  From that moment on, Matsuo was Isamu’s favorite dog. He adored my brother and would take orders from nobody but him. But Choki didn’t know that.

  “He will obey me,” I said quickly. “But he doesn’t like strangers. Matsuo, sit.” Thankfully, the huge dog obeyed me, although reluctantly. He sat silently, his lips peeled back from his white fangs.

  “Tell him to go away. I don’t like dogs. Especially not big, fierce ones like him. Good dog. Just you go away and leave us
alone,” Choki ordered. Matsuo growled at his tone. Choki glanced at me and swallowed. “No, no. I see he’s not going to take orders from a stranger. The dog obviously wants to protect you. I can see that. Or is it perhaps that he’s jealous of me being alone here with you?” Choki’s face had gone green with fear. Did he really think that I used Matsuo to find satisfaction, like the woman in his pillow book? I stared at his face and realized that was exactly what the horrible man was thinking. “He’s not going to leave, is he?” Choki moaned.

  “Not unless I tell him to,” I said superbly. “He is very protective.” And so he was, but not usually of me. Matsuo growled again, deep in his throat, his eyes never leaving Choki. Suddenly, I understood. Isamu was hunting with hawks today. Matsuo would have gotten in the way, so he had been left at home. Until Isamu came back, he would protect me instead.

  Choki was fastening his robe, very slowly. I noticed that his rearing tree had shrunk so much it was almost hidden in his black moss. That pleased me greatly. I hoped that it would be a very long time before he dared display it to any woman again.

  “Please. I really do not like dogs. Especially big dogs. They seem to know I’m afraid of them. Protect me from him and I promise I will never speak to Isamu about what happened between us.”

  A moment ago, Choki had been intent on violating me. Now he was trying to turn the tables so that the encounter would appear—if not my fault—at least with my agreement. I longed to order Matsuo to bite him. To maul him so severely that he would never want to show his face in public again.

  Matsuo turned his gaze to me as if asking, “What do you want me to do with him?” and I relented. If the poor dog so much as nipped my brother’s guest, then custom dictated that Isamu would have to kill him. I could not live with that on my conscience.

  “Matsuo.” I spoke firmly. The akita promptly left the door and came to stand at my side. I patted him gently. Choki groaned, a small sound that barely left his throat. “Smell him, Matsuo,” I ordered.

  Matsuo glanced at me enquiringly. When I nodded, he padded right up to Choki and sniffed him cautiously. It was clear the dog hated his smell; his lips curled and his ears went flat. When he got to the stage of shoving his muzzle right in Choki’s robe and nosing at his tree, I clicked my fingers. It wasn’t that I really wanted him to stop—Choki was groaning loudly and shaking, and the knowledge that he was terrified delighted me—rather, I knew if I allowed Matsuo to sniff for a moment longer I would burst out laughing. Matsuo backed away at my signal, and I was sure he looked relieved to be away from Choki’s stench.

  “Matsuo is an akita,” I said gravely. “You may have heard of the skill of such dogs. Once they have the scent of a deer, they will track it for miles from the smell alone. And when they do find their prey, they tear it to pieces. That is their instinct. And Matsuo is very special. My brother has trained him particularly well. Once he gets a scent, he never forgets it. Just as he will never forget you. I suggest you leave this house immediately, before my brother returns. If you do, I will show you mercy. But never forget, if you linger, or even if you ever come back here, all I have to do is click my fingers and Matsuo will tear you apart. It would be unfortunate for Matsuo, of course, as Isamu would be forced to take his head off to punish him. But I don’t suppose that would be much comfort to you, would it, Choki-san?”

  “No, no. No need for anything like that. I will leave now. This minute. I will leave Isamu a note to tell him that I have been called away on urgent business. I promise you, I will never return here.”

  I almost believed him. But I was still suspicious. I stroked Matsuo’s dense fur and nodded politely.

  “Perhaps you would like to leave your note with me? I’ll make sure Isamu gets it as soon as he comes home. He will be most disappointed that you had to leave suddenly, I’m sure.”

  “You have a tight hold on the dog?” I nodded, and Choki scrambled to his feet. Matsuo delighted me by growling at him and lunging for his ankle as Choki passed him. He gave a high-pitched squeal and ran from the room with his robe flapping.

  I gave Isamu his note, but only after I had read it myself. Choki’s calligraphy was dreadful, although I suppose the unevenness of his kanji and the splutters from the brush could have been due to his encounter with Matsuo. He had done as I had asked and simply said that he presented his apologies but had been called away on urgent family business. I was surprised when Isamu seemed quite pleased he had gone.

  “One has to be polite, of course. His bride is a distant cousin of our family, and as I knew him slightly, Father felt that it was correct to invite him as our guest. But—between the two of us—he was a terrible bore. Didn’t want to hunt. Couldn’t even compose a decent haiku.” He paused and I waited for him to comment on Choki’s dreadful smell. He didn’t, as that would have been outside the bounds of politeness. When he did speak, I was astonished. “He dropped a couple of hints about you. I rather thought he’d taken a fancy to you. He didn’t say anything to you, I suppose?”

  I shook my head. “Not a thing,” I lied cheerfully.

  Four

  Snow bends the boughs to

  Its will. But once the thaw comes,

  Their time will return

  The memory of the horrible Choki was so vivid that it took me a moment to focus on what Isamu was actually showing me. I told myself I was being silly; I had no doubt at all that even if Isamu possessed anything as vulgar as a shunga pillow book, he would never dream of showing it to me. Besides, he was handling this book with such reverence, I knew at once that it was very special and that I was mistaken.

  “This book is very precious, little sister. Grandfather gave it to me when I was a young child.”

  Isamu was opening the cover as he spoke, and I looked at it with interest.

  The leaves inside were curious. They did not turn like normal pages, but folded out like the pleats of a huge fan. I knew at once that the book was very old indeed. The paper was called washi and was made from the fibers of mulberry bushes. Because of its construction, the paper could remain intact for centuries if it was well cared for. This book had obviously been kept very carefully for a very long time. The washi was still intact and the grain very fine, but it was beginning to yellow at the edges, and I noticed that Isamu took very great care as he unfolded the pages and spread them out before us. They crackled faintly as they were laid flat.

  “Don’t touch!” he said sharply. I snatched my hand away as though he had burned it with fire. Isamu was rarely impatient. If I had not understood before, now I knew how important this old book was to him.

  “I’m sorry, Isamu.” I tucked my hands beneath my knees to show how careful I would be from that moment on. “I will be very careful not to hurt your book. Is it very old?”

  “Centuries. Not even grandfather was quite sure how old. I think it may have been made in the time of the Genpei War.” I tried to look intelligent, but I had never heard of them. Isamu obviously understood my confusion. “That means nothing to you, does it?”

  “No,” I said simply. “Will you tell me about it?”

  I was fascinated without knowing why. Perhaps Isamu felt my interest. He balanced the book on his knees carefully, his expression alight with enthusiasm.

  “The Genpei War took place over six hundred years ago. Two clans went to war for supremacy—the Tairo and Minamoto.”

  “I remember hearing Father saying once that our family descended from the Minamoto clan,” I interrupted. “Is that true?”

  “It is.” Isamu nodded seriously. “You should be very proud of our heritage, Keiko.”

  “Oh, I am,” I assured him. As the mere youngest girl child, I had never been instructed in our family history. Now, I understood quite how well connected we were and why Emiko had sneered at the idea of me marrying anybody who was not a full-bloodied samurai.

  “That is one of the reasons this book is important to you.” Isamu prodded me to ensure he had my attention. I sat straight and tried to look
intelligent. “It was illustrated to commemorate the courage and daring of the Minamoto samurai. And not just the men of the clan. The women as well. Look.”

  He held the fanned pages out carefully, and I followed his finger where it was pointing at the first illustration. It showed what was unmistakably a woman mounted on a horse. I held my breath in astonishment as I saw that she was wearing full armor, and the traditional two swords of the samurai were thrust into her sash, ready to be drawn at any moment. A long, curved naginata—a wickedly sharp curved blade mounted on a long handle—was draped almost casually over her shoulder. She was utterly feminine in the beauty of her face and hair, and at the same time undeniably masculine in her clothes and bearing.

  “Who is she?” I breathed. “Why is she dressed as a samurai warrior?”

  “She is one of our ancestors,” Isamu said quietly. “Her name was Tomoe Gozen, and she was onna-bugeisha. She is dressed as a samurai warrior because that is what she was—a warrior woman of the samurai. One of the women you dismissed as no more than a fairy tale.”

  “Really?” In spite of the evidence before my eyes, I could hardly believe it. I wanted to know everything that Isamu could tell me about this lovely warrior. “Who was she? Did she really fight like a man?”

  “I told you, she’s one of our ancestors.” Isamu tried to look bored, but a smile broke through as he recognized my enthusiasm. “She fought in the battle of Awazu alongside her man. It is said that she was a greater warrior than any man who fought that day.” His voice became suddenly formal, and I understood that he was reciting something he had learned by heart. “Tomoe Gozen was especially beautiful. She had white skin, long hair, and charming features. She was a remarkably strong archer, and as a swordswoman, she was a warrior worth a thousand men, ready to confront a demon or god, mounted or on foot. She handled unbroken horses with superb skill. Whenever a battle was imminent, her husband sent her out as his first captain, equipped with strong armor, an oversized sword, and a mighty bow. She performed more deeds of valor than any of his other warriors.”