Sisters of the Sword

by Maya Snow

  I tried to ignore the audience and focus on Master Goku and his movements. There was no time to think or feel, but only to act. Limbs moved in a blur. Fists flashed left and right. I struck, blocked, struck again, and sent a hard fist flying. Goku shoved me away, and instantly Hana leaped at him with a high snapping kick. He blocked her and when she landed, he immediately swept her legs out from under her. She broke her fall with a roll that left a track in the sand…and for a moment she was out of the fight.

  Master Goku spun around to focus on me. He stood firm, totally centered, a towering pillar of strength and calm. I whirled toward him, unleashing one attack after another, trying to keep my hands and feet hard-edged like a steel blade, as my father had taught me. But Master Goku blocked high, then low, then stepped to the side, his movements unhurried, his face tranquil.

  Hips twisting, I aimed a furious kick at his stomach. He caught my foot and, with a gentle turn of his wrist, sent me spinning across the sandy courtyard. There was a sharp intake of breath from some of the students as I slapped the ground in a break fall.

  Hana recovered herself and abruptly sprang at Master Goku with a sidekick to his knee. He instantly blocked with his shin, spun around, and moved in close to snake his arm over her shoulder. Her balance broken, Hana fell backward and landed in the dirt.

  I scrambled to my feet and leaped back into the fight. I launched myself at Master Goku, moving in with one fist pulled back. I showed my intention to punch him, but I planned instead to spin around and hit him with a backward kick….

  But the Master was ready. He caught my foot and flipped me flat on my back next to my sister. I gasped, the breath knocked from my body. That had been my best and most agile move—but the Master had anticipated me like a mind reader!

  He nodded at us, half smiling as we both lay there in the sand, defeated. A cheer went up from the crowd of students and Master Goku seemed to notice them for the first time.

  “You should all be at your studies,” he said to them, frowning as he pretended to be displeased. “Knowledge is like a tender plant growing in a garden. What happens if that plant is neglected?”

  The students all stood quietly. Then one of them, a pleasant-faced boy with short black hair, spoke up. I recognized him as the student who had been practicing alone when we first came into the courtyard. “A neglected plant will wither and die, Master Goku,” he said.

  “Indeed it will, Tatsuya.” Master Goku acknowledged him with a smile. “Just as a plant withers and dies, so will knowledge slip from your grasp and be forgotten. Go now, all of you, and tend to your studies. You are here to learn, not to stand idle.”

  The students bowed and hurried away.

  Hana and I were still on the floor, but as Master Goku turned back to us, we scrambled to kneel with our shins tucked under our thighs to sit respectfully in seiza. My muscles felt weak and I knew I would have bruises the next day.

  Master Goku bowed low to us. Together, Hana and I bowed in return, and I remembered what I had said to Ken-ichi earlier about not going onto my knees for anyone….

  But Master Goku was different. He was someone who was worth showing respect to.

  Master Goku indicated that we should rise and handed us our swords. We brushed ourselves down and I was aware of him watching us.

  I wondered what he was thinking. Did he suspect that we were girls? I stood up straighter and widened my shoulders, trying to look tall and boyish.

  Please accept us, I begged silently. I didn’t know what I’d do if Master Goku didn’t offer us a place in the dojo. We had no other plan.

  Master Goku turned to Hana. “Your feet are as light as a gazelle’s,” he said softly. “Agile, fast, and with a natural grace. What is your name?”

  “H—” she began and then stopped, blushing in her confusion. She flashed me a desperate look and my heart began to pound. We hadn’t thought of names!

  Master Goku smiled encouragingly at her.

  Thinking quickly, I spoke up. “Otonashi,” I said firmly. “My brother’s name is Otonashi. Everyone calls him Silent Fist.”

  “Otonashi, meaning ‘gentle’ or ‘soundless,’” Master Goku said, gazing at Hana thoughtfully. “A good name. Silence is strength.”

  He bowed and then moved on to me. “Your focus is strong, my son,” he said. “Your kicks are fast and powerful. Does your name also reflect your skill?”

  I nodded, inwardly thanking him for the clue, although he of course had no idea he was helping me. “Yes,” I said quietly. “My name is Kagenashi and people call me Shadowless Feet.”

  Master Goku smiled. “You spoke the truth, shadowless one. You both have potential—”

  “Oh, thank you!” I cried.

  But Master Goku silenced me by raising his hand. “That does not mean I can accept you into my school,” he said, a small frown creasing his brow. My heart fell. “I also spoke the truth when I said we have no room. We have just completed the admission of new students for the year. I say that with regret, because I can see your natural talents and I wish I could develop them…but I cannot.” He bowed again. “I am sorry.”

  Before we had time to speak, or show our disappointment, Master Goku gestured to one of the nearby servants. “These boys are leaving,” he said. “But they’ve traveled far and are hungry and thirsty. Please fetch them some water and a travel pack of rice so that they can refresh themselves.”

  The servant nodded and hurried away. I watched him go, my thoughts in turmoil. Master Goku looked at me kindly, and suddenly a new idea broke into my mind like an enormous wave crashing against a cliff. “Servants,” I muttered. “We could be servants….”

  “Oh yes!” Hana quickly nodded her agreement.

  “If your school is full, Master Goku,” I went on, “then there must be much work for your servants. We could help by sweeping the floors and serving food. We could—” I came to an abrupt halt. What else did servants do? Everything! Except that Hana and I had no idea how to do any of it. But the important thing was that we must stay here. We couldn’t risk being back out on the road again.

  “We’re hard workers,” I said.

  Master Goku folded his hands into his wide sleeves and gazed at me. I wished I could tell what he was thinking.

  Eventually he said, “A servant—like a good samurai—must be humble and quiet and patient. Do you have those qualities, Kagenashi?”

  I nodded, and beside me Hana nodded too. “We both do,” I said firmly.

  The servant came hurrying back across the courtyard with a bamboo container and a ball of sticky rice half wrapped in a green leaf. “The food and water, Master,” he said.

  “Thank you,” Master Goku said to the servant. There was a moment’s silence and then he added, “I’m sorry to have sent you on a useless errand. These boys have no need for travel food now. They won’t be leaving after all.”

  I caught my breath. “We won’t?” I said, grinning. Beside me, Hana’s face was shining like the moon on a warm spring night. “We can stay?”

  Master Goku smiled. “You can stay,” he confirmed. “But I expect hard work from you both. And maybe…maybe…if you work hard enough, you may be rewarded with an invitation to attend some of my classes.”

  I wanted to leap forward and hug Master Goku, but I knew it would not be polite. And besides, he was already turning away to walk across the courtyard.

  “Follow me,” he called back over his shoulder. “My servants do not stand idle with grins on their faces when there is work to be done.”

  Hana and I exchanged delighted glances and then hurried to catch up with the Master as he led us out of the courtyard and along a wooden walkway edged with cherry trees. To our left were buildings and to the right was another small courtyard where four or five students sparred with blunted swords.

  “I will introduce you to our head servant here at the dojo,” Master Goku said as we turned a corner. Sounds carried up to us from the far corners of the school: the faint thud of an arrow str
iking a target, a clash of wooden poles, the grunt of someone hitting the ground.

  “The head servant’s name is Choji,” Master Goku went on. “You will answer to him for everything. He will feed you, clothe you, and give you your orders.”

  “Yes, Master,” Hana and I said together.

  We passed a moss garden, then a round pool where a waterfall splashed down from a high rock face. Then, we saw an area of grass where a neat circle of students sat kneeling in seiza. They were all staring at a lotus blossom floating in a bowl of water at the center of their circle. A young master in a crisp black jacket and hakama trousers walked among them, his face serene.

  “Contemplation,” Master Goku said, catching my inquiring glance, “can bring serenity and inner tranquillity. Very useful when a warrior is preparing himself for the heat and strife of battle.”

  I bowed respectfully, grateful that he was teaching us even as we were moving through the school. A sideways glance showed me that Hana was drinking in the sights and sounds, too. I knew that, like me, she would be committing everything to memory. One day, I felt sure we would be grateful for Master Goku’s advice.

  Eventually we came to a long, low building with a roof that curved upward at each corner. A stocky man in a blue jacket and long breeches appeared in the doorway as we approached. He was thickset, with a neck like a bull, and his hair was shaved on the front part of his head but pulled into the traditional samurai’s oiled tail at the back. He carried a bamboo basket full of folded linen, but when he saw Master Goku approaching he put it down and bowed low.

  “Ah, Mr. Choji,” Master Goku said cheerfully.

  “Good afternoon, Sensei,” the head servant said, using the traditional term of teacher for the Master. “What can I do for you?”

  “I bring you a pair of kitchen boys. This is Otonashi and Kagenashi. I’m sure you’ll keep them from idleness.”

  Choji gave Hana and me a narrow-eyed glance. “They’re too skinny,” he grumbled. “But I suppose they’ll have to do. We’re three servants short and I’ve got to take what I can get!” He picked up his basket of linen. “Now then, skinny boys, I had better show you where you’ll sleep. And you’ll need clean clothes, too. You’re filthy. What have you been doing—drowning yourselves in streams and fighting a path through the forest?”

  I bit the inside of my cheeks to stop myself from grinning. Choji had no idea how close to the truth he was!

  Master Goku smiled and bowed in our direction. “Today is the first day of Usui, or rainwater period, which is a special event for us here at the dojo,” he said. “This evening we have a ceremony to mark this official start of a new period of intensive kenshu training. There will be plenty of work to do, helping Choji to prepare for the ceremony.”

  My heart ached as I remembered that this ceremony would have been attended by my father. I had begged to be allowed to accompany him and my brothers—and now karma had brought me here in their place.

  Choji was nodding. “Plenty of work to keep you skinny boys busy,” he commented brusquely. I began to worry that we might not find the same kindness in Choji that Master Goku had shown us.

  “I’ll expect to see you both at the ceremony later,” Master Goku went on. “You may find it useful to watch the demonstrations of combat. And now, I have my meditation class to attend to. I will leave you in the capable hands of Choji.”

  With a final bow, Master Goku withdrew, leaving us alone with Choji.

  “Come along then, skinny boys,” the head servant said, tucking the basket of linen under one of his brawny arms. “I’ll show you to your quarters.”

  We followed him along a hallway, through a sliding door, and into a tiny room with a plain wooden floor. There were rolls of bedding on the shelves and fresh clothes folded in piles.

  “Take an extra blanket each from the store cupboard across the hall,” Choji said gruffly. “Skinny boys like you must feel the cold.”

  With a short bow, he left us, sliding the door closed behind him. As I began to peel off my travel-stained clothes, I couldn’t help thinking of our bedchamber at home, with its silk hangings, lacquered cabinets, and padded quilts. This tiny, bare room had none of the luxury that we were used to, but it was warm and safe. And if we were to keep our true identities a secret, then Hana and I must not show any sign of discomfort.

  We quickly changed into our new blue jackets and baggy breeches. I held my little brother’s wooden sword in my hand for a moment, hoping that one day I would hand it back to him and watch the happy smile break across his face. Then I tucked it under my folded-up blanket.

  I looked up to see Hana was knotting her sash, and I realized instantly that she was tying it with the knot open to the left.

  “No, Hana!” I whispered urgently. “A lady ties her sash to the left. A man ties his sash to the right.”

  Hana paused but didn’t look at me. For a moment her chin wobbled and I thought she might cry, but no tears fell. Instead she silently untied her sash and retied it with the knot open to the right.

  “Hana…?” I said her name gently.

  She turned to look at me, her face grave. “My name is Otonashi.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  I hugged her. “Okay then, Otonashi,” I said, my throat tight. “Let’s go and start work.”

  We found Choji in the kitchens, a square single-story block between the servants’ quarters and the largest of the dojo’s many practice halls. When we arrived, another young servant boy called Ko was standing at a wooden table chopping vegetables so quickly that his hands seemed to flutter like the wings of a hummingbird. He looked up when we entered and grinned. We grinned back.

  Choji turned to see who had come into his kitchen. “Skinny boys!” he ordered. “Come over here. I need someone to taste this soup for me….” He slammed two enormous wooden bowls of fish stew down on the table.

  As we made our way across the kitchen, I was aware of Hana swaggering in a boyish way. I adjusted my stride too, taking longer steps and letting my hands swing loosely at my sides.

  “Come on—eat up!” Choji urged. “And then tell me what you think. Too much salt? Not enough sugar? What does it need, eh?”

  I emptied my bowl with hungry gulps, trying to remember when we’d last eaten. Was it last night, before the kaiseki ryori? “This soup is delicious,” I told Choji, swiping my cuff across my mouth like a boy. “It needs nothing!”

  “Nothing?” Choji barked, and tasted the soup himself. “I’d say it needs more salt. You’d better have some more, so you can taste what I mean.” He ladled more soup into our bowls.

  After the soup, Choji gave us huge balls of sticky rice and a platter of sweet bamboo shoots to suck on. “If you’re going to work here,” he said, “I will have to feed you up. I can’t have skinny boys in my kitchen—the students might think there’s something wrong with my cooking!”

  His eyes sparkled as he glanced at me, and because of the extra blankets and bowls of soup, I could see that despite his gruff exterior Choji was a kind man.

  When we’d finished eating, he led us to a storeroom and gave us our first assignment. “Tonight’s opening ceremony is going to be held in the practice hall,” he told us. “I want it clean and tidy. Here, boy,” he said to Hana. “Sweep and wipe down the wooden floor, then polish it thoroughly with these rags. And take fresh tatami mats and lay them on the raised platform for the Master to sit on.”

  “And you, Kagenashi,” he said, turning to me, “I want you to place these lanterns on their stands all along the walls and light them for when the students assemble at sundown. Then help with the polishing.”

  I bowed and nodded, my mind reeling. My brothers Nobuaki and Harumasa had often talked about ceremonies at the dojo, describing thrilling demonstrations of combat and skill. But they had never mentioned how much work went into preparing the practice hall! I realized I had never noticed how much work a kaiseki ryori ceremony must have been for our household servants.

  Choji left us
to gather up the mats, lanterns, and their stands, and with an armful each Hana and I hurried across a small garden to the practice hall.

  The hall was a huge, airy room, with an ornate roof supported by rows of square pillars. Open gaps along one wall gave a view of the elegant gardens and lily ponds. The enormous wooden floor was dull from repeated footwork practice or body rolls, and we would have to get it gleaming in time for the ceremony.

  We spent the rest of the afternoon preparing the hall. Ko, the young kitchen boy, came to help us.

  “I heard you had a fight with Ken-ichi,” he said to me as we finished buffing the wooden floorboards. “I hope you got in a few jabs that hurt.”

  I glanced sideways at him, surprised. For some reason I had thought that my cousin would be popular here at the school. “Don’t you like Ken-ichi?” I asked.

  Ko shook his head and stood up. “He’s a strutting peacock who needs his pride sliced in half with a sharp blade,” he said, glancing over his shoulder to make sure nobody else could hear him. “I expect he told you that he’s the nephew of the Jito? And if he hasn’t already, then he soon will! Ken-ichi never lets anyone forget how important he is.”

  Ko lit three long-handled tapers and handed one each to Hana and me. Together we moved down the hall, lighting the dozens of lanterns that I had hung on their stands. Our shadows began to dance on the walls as we moved back and forth.

  “Be wary of Ken-ichi,” Ko said, after a while. “He’s the kind of boy who bears a grudge. So be on your guard around him, because he’s already been grumbling about losing his free hour.”

  “What could he do to us?” Hana asked quietly.

  “He might stick out his foot and trip you when you’re hurrying down a walkway with a tray full of tea bowls,” Ko said. “And when you look around for someone to blame, he’s melted away, leaving you to explain to Choji why all the tea bowls are smashed.”

  “Has that happened to you?” I asked.

  Ko nodded. “Ken-ichi thinks it’s hilarious. And Choji thinks I’m clumsy.”